on the red wall in my apartment
I sit thinking.
There is something important; I'm supposed to remember.
In a moment, I'll be frantic in my forgetfulness.
It's about distance.
Being able to see, but not touch.
Remembering but not experiancing.
I feel the moments go by as I sit waiting:
For the answers, for dawn, for the middle of next week.
I hate this moment,
being here, something I didn't plan.
I beg time for a chance:
To say it all, forgive, understand.
All of it, there fighting to be first.
I struggle; did I make a mistake?
Was there no choice?
I can't take it back , and wouldn't if I could.
But it scares me.
Have I lost?
I wonder, afterall, you can't lose what was never yours.