Forty Four!

Day Forty Four:  Him.

So lightly touched in your ever shine

Despite all darker brooding

Chronic is your style,

Any Jungian faces you put on

For me, persona means less

And more everyday, I struggle to

Identify the little things about you.

Even when I assume we are broken

We are not.  We are us.

Sometimes I assume we are more than…

In the best way, in the way that

Every coffee smiles back,

And every minor struggle

Propels us further into what I’ve grown to know as

One helluva crutch, a lean-to,

A Fort against the mass of depressing

Bullshit that is our everyday.

Never mentioning those sentimentalities

That we both assume regularly anyway,

That “Hey,”  I’ll be there,

Just a press away.

z