Sunday, September 28, 2014

The Exception

We read poetry in bed- once.
I built a mountain on that moment.
Always mistaking the exception as the rule.
You know I love when you make an appearance- no matter how brief-in the now.
When you forget your wounds and your worries.
You kiss me like you know this is good.
Like you know it is enough.
But that is the exception and not the rule.
So 'enough' I said.
Enough now.
I want nothing short of now, and no drop less than all.

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