asthewhitecrowflies:

sometimes, you sit on the back porch
between your lover and his best friend.
turned up with the cigarette smoke, you breathe
through your nose to spare your sore throat.
and sometimes, when you are open to the words
between the words, you hear the comforting
sound of the endless rhythm. this is how it is.
this is how it always was. this is how you are.
this is how he is. this is how you & he are,
and will be, and is. in your mind’s eye, you see
how you will or you won’t have children;
how you will or you won’t need to cry;
how you will or you won’t leave a mark;
how you will or you won’t shoulder it well;
how you will or you won’t collapse sometimes;
how you will or you won’t be remembered, but
how you will
always
be part of what is.