DREAMING OF A DEAD THING

In another life

One where this dead hope did not die
I would have loved you differently

I could have been there for you differently
Now under sleepless sky I mourn
the death of a different universe
one where lamenting hope was not the outcome
Where the fading whisper of night carried more

than a fruitless tomorrow between souls
one where I could sit comfortably in the weight of my ethos

-not encumbered by acquiescence or the weighty silence of never