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