I awakened him with a soft exhale
One that was on purpose
Long
The timing of which had nothing to do with anything
Except fate and skin and the sixth-sense that is subconsciousness
And though this was his Sunday
That blessed day of rest
Seemed unnecessary, he said
As we sank back
Into Saturday night
Feverish
Jump through hoops
And when we’re nearly ninety-nine
Fading, yet certain of our fate and the love it made with us
Green still, relatively so
We’ll walk, treasuring the sands, the time
Why did you act like water and feel like hands
And I, born thirsty with never a progenitor to touch me
Why did I, the reluctant saint, concede nonetheless to True North’s tug
And you, the only lesser god ever worth worshipping
Close my cursed eyes
Not dreaming of cursed love
This I ask of fate
All that you asked
Was that I be different
Than the one
I always was
You are no different
Than the one
Who came before you
Who asked me to be different
Invisible now
Is that different enough
What more will you ask
Of the fade
I think I am certain I know
Rejection so painfully slow
Tho’ kindness would warrant godspeed
Fate feels that more torture I need
As I stay busy
At the beauty
I will leave fate
To tell of the somehow
That beautiful minds think
Alike
I thought I wore a headdress
I thought I donned glass heels
I thought I had high cheekbones
I thought my soul appealed
But as fate would want it
And I’d not dare deny
The heart I thought had strummed my name
Played Julie’s lullabye
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