I wonder if today will be the day
I fall from your preliminary graces..
The ambulance came, its siren threading
With the motives of my recumbent pulse.
Dying feels nothing like release
When bred of obligation (real or imagined).
Every star ever sewn lays between us
The edges like the tips of safety pins
The sky, a subliminal regalia
For an entity scarcely witnessed
And just as bacteria can not perceive
Its host we are too modest
To reconcile the truth in analogy.
Sometimes all it takes is the light
Sliding uninvited beneath
My depressed lids and sometimes
It takes only one ‘I love you’ spoken
Without pity or ultimatum (real or imagined)
To restore one’s equilibrium.