I Was Here

                           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.


prompted by Poetic Asides — 2013 November PAD Chapbook Challenge 3:
The Last Time I Was Here

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