and like i was with her, i seem to
realize the truth of things,
some certain things, long after
they already are and
have been.

( it is the year of the ox and ) i
apparently have misjudged this
to be some very different time, i am now
well aware and grateful for this season, with just
a few small months
left to go.

but she has always been
so much more
practical, and according
to schedule
than i am.

i
believed for several
many and long months that she
could still find magic
and laughter
in loving me, but that was ( if )
so very many
months ago
at best,
or
at all.

and now as i let her, my false
and beautiful version of her, fall
away and back into some
distant time, i wonder
who she is, or was becoming,
all along, and during the while
i so loved her, and who
if any or some real thing
was she or that, which
i had dreamfelt all of those
so many moments, that were truly elsewhere ticking
in such deep and far between
universes, where, with her back to me,
and moving somewhere so
curiously else, i was
just chasing
echo.

but oh well, better
great better late
than never, i
suppose.
and now i am
happy, happy to be,
building forward again, in love
with loving again, breathing in
the full awe and gasp
of the sun rising up
and with me, and breathing out
every stretch and flicker
of the stars floating down
and with me, each now
morning and new
night.