A Requiem for Reason

This sad sort of reverie

I'm sinking in

seems to set like concrete,

as I try to swim.


It's the little details

that hit me –

like lightning bolts to the chest.

And they put me back where I started.


A grin as you look down

and the way you yell

too loud,

and those stupid clothes you wear.


You're like mist swirling around

and over me.

It's something I can't grasp,

something I can't see.


And yet,

I miss it when it's gone.

Now you're gone.


I don't want to miss you;

it's not reasonable or


in any way.


But I can't help it.

I'll think it's fine and that

I don't miss that mist -

that uncertainty -


that always had me wondering,

and guessing,

as I got lost in the fog.

But out of nowhere,


I soak into this sea of salt,

and I miss you again.


You're lost in my rhyme,

my clueless rhythm and reasons.


You were going to be my person

for the longest time.