Did I confuse you

Did I confuse you — I am
talking about when I
didn’t say anything, but
the sun’s rays tinted
the scorching concrete.
Was it too hard to
remain the same person
you are, as lovely as you
are, through all of it?

I used to wish I could
transcend meaning to
the deeper directness, of
not love, not dearness,
but a clarity, a freshness —
mostly a getting away
from you. I still want it —
joylessly, but hopeful for
the optional fullness it could bring.

I suppose I don’t want
to do you ill, for you  to
know regret or shame.
I feel this most when
it is still warm out
as the sun sets beyond the
hidden trees — which is
not unlike nostalgia, but is
too near, too present

to resemble the
melancholy of
reflection. And
so another moment
ends without
much notice.

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