Seperation

Approaching The Cup

The long golden garden party afternoon before the news arrives,

The actual appropriate dynamics of everything we compromise

With our delirious longing, all this is just the way of words

When they huddle, affecting happiness in herds.

Let them soften to the fact of the flow of your hair

And love’s truest lie—“I’ll always be there”.

I always misspell separation when she’s near.

Tonight I’ll get it right, I fear.