I ask myself

(the frustration emerges)

a mist clouding my emergence
from the dusk of old resentments
to the freedom of new dawns

I answer myself
Thanks I think are not in order
for a shared miracle
a secret life

that has made me disappear

from the consciousness
of what is now best looked back upon
in remembrance
and learning
and frustrations

when will the secrets that separate us
bring us together?

When will the secrets that saved us
free us?

Instead the frustrations just linger
nothing changes

hope and motivation
nothing changes

I have both
and neither

I want to bring us together
beyond the secrets separating me from
who I would be

from who you would be

to me

When all I see is a cursed old man
whose secrets may die with him
beneath the discarded remains of what once was

separating
frustrating
aggravating

secrets

honesty is the best policy
or so it is said
if so I’d be dead

instead, I live on in this constrained existence
making the most
hiding the secrets that could
in theory
bring us together

or tear us apart

but free us, nonetheless.

Free us from ourselves.

Time may tell
though mine is limited
frustrations win again
and rob me of the joy of what is now
and frustrate me with the knowledge of
what may never be

you and me
free, nonetheless.

Freed from ourselves.