Conceding That

I was mistaken

Or put most precisely

I misunderstood

The who or the why or the what of that hand

That hand that reached out

And I may have gasped

How long without air, it is too hard to say 

But now I’ve this shirt

With no known owner

It skulks in the back while it whispers an “If”

In an up shade of blue that has stolen my eyes 

So my soul lurches outward 

Screaming “There was no “If””

Take your comfort in knowing that soon it shall find

Stranger skin on an island of Hope 

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