At some point you need to say yes to the past.
Yes, that’s its face, that’s its language, that’s its behaviour.
We made it together, it was a thing of beauty and an ugly thing
Always in transformation, in regression, digression,
Growing multiple heads, twisted in too many directions,
We were always armed with negligence and a lack of intimacy,
A desire to move, forward, away, in resentment and frustration.
Looking at faces, thinking about the possibility of love
Touching bodies rejecting dreams that were not ours
That tasted wrong on our tongues, cold on our skin
Hot on theirs, hot in their minds,
And we ran so far away, in our gown of shadows and chains,
Trying to shed what had not been ripe yet,
Having seen where it would go, where it would all go wrong
And we couldn’t escape, we would be hurt,
We were made to revolt and close our eyes and think of better days
Not look into the eyes of those who inflict pain
Not focus on our own hands that dragged memorabilia
Through the mud that people would never find again
When they grow old and nostalgic
Looking for hideous dissolved and aching rays of light
And refine the goodness, that minuscule particle
That might have given them hope
When life could still be saved.