if i could live with someone’s hope
forever till we part
i’d at least be able to see
beyond the ashes on my fingertips
and the cough tucked under-sleeve,
perhaps then maybe i could sleep?
longer than it takes to wake and find
who i’m not, or who i’d rather be—
cause it’s such a drag to smile
then to give a laughing nod,
that even when i do it’s like
my mind just says enough—
so when sitting becomes quiet
with my shadow and the curb
i hear within the darkest corner
that hope i don’t deserve.
and if i know you well enough
i know you’ll disagree,
still hopelessly devoted to
this god damn ghost of me.
and it’s hardly ever good enough
in retrospect you’ll see
that hope distilled in all of us
is that in which i bleed—