Good Enough

On my 45th birthday:

I am good with my word, happy to let my secrets be heard.
Circling the drain once again, feels warm as the water pulls me in.
Belief in these expectations, and I’ve played the fool.
Buying all the hype, fitting every stereotype, won’t you tender me?
Waited so long for this to become a reality.
Time and time again, failed me, failed you, failed everyone I knew.
I like when it all goes right, but it’s an exhaustive fight,
breaks my heart, the lost art.
No fault in being human, no fault in being less than.
Either way I’m good…


I almost got used to missing you.
Almost never gets it done, the trade-off is love:
the dig your heels in the earth kind, revolting against the sky-
your body taken miles from here,
but never the mind.
How my heart aches without you, nothing you get used to,
and I’m glad it’s temporary.

This is like a film splotched up on screen,
played out like so much Hollywood sheen.
Watching Before Sunset alone, and the reminders and cues,
our first silent pauses and what followed afterwards.
The subtle, not stark, revealing, black gives way to blue.
You don’t easily forge ground that holds no foothold on uncharted lands,
long trails that remain hush no matter how many people clutter backroads from backhand.
It was always you and me, and that’s how it will be.
Your goodbye, only temporary.