Of All the Efforts Meant

The mere thought undoes me
leaves me breathless…decaying
in my emptiness I can never hold
the idea of you…of me…of a 
shared motion toward a separate
end; a simple fade into the slow
side of time, the ragged edge
where minutes fall off into
nothing, hours twist out of
shape view measure and mean
little when stacked against
the expectation of sadness of
denial of all the efforts meant
positively meant generously…all
the ideas gathered to focus on
a life meant to be something more
than nothing…while you/me can
only be the person standing, toe
to toe, at the end of our shadow,
we can be life breathing happiness
in our own orbits our own minute
tick tick ticking toward the edge
toward a separate end where
separation exists only as that wistful
idea, slowly ungrasped, that falls
leaf-like to the floor

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