Despite the treacherous road and torturous climb, I was here.
Regardless darkness raining down pus and slime, I was here.
Things fit perfectly. Things meant their best. Things stayed on,
kept past quitting time. When we were in our prime, I was here.
Does throwing time we shared out with Monday morning trash
make you that deaf to death bell’s endless chime? I was here.
What once was my most enduring moment of loving kindness
in an instant turned into my most annoying crime: I was here.
Screw metaphor. I was here. To hell with form. Damn meter.
I was here. Who cares if it does or doesn’t rhyme. I was here.
Don’t take yourself so seriously, Cyn. Anyone who’s forgotten
my arrival will just as easily’ve missed the last time I was here.