ardor

it is hard

and will only get harder

but every day you must

find beauty in the often

overlooked things

like a wooden cabinet flaking away

onto packed undergarments as a lover once knew

like a day’s unrolling tongue spent on the last subway

home with a little bit of wine and a lot of the night

still waiting to be brightened

like you

there in the yawning doorway

looking at her

one last time

eyes closing unwillingly and accidentally

separating the softness of then

your hands on her head her hair

brushing away the sunlight found in the now that interweaves

the language of a lost compass

sunken at the bottom of a ship

by a sailor who took the captain down

and the echo of door that will close

with wounds that won’t

and will she look back

will you

does anyone take a second second

on the nevermore in the always present

tomorrow comes

though it could also be

yesterday

you are not sure anymore