Once you’ve finished
drying yourself out, take
stock of what truths
you find yourself shouting
to strangers in bathrooms
hoping that someone
will call you real.
Maybe the end has already
come; dishonesty nothing
more than aftershocks.
I won’t feel guilty for loving
I won’t feel guilty for loving
I won’t feel guilty for loving
even after they’ve left.
Can you see regret wafting?
Try to smell shame.
Self-denial, the only stench
to stand; resourcefulness
never ceases to amaze.
Wish you here or wish
me there, off in the ether
the precise between,
go, they say, go! go
faster, they mean.