Say we can escape these years as rain escapes
the sky in downpour. I want to remember us

before our bed became a place to create somebody.
Before our bodies became little machines.

I want to tell you my greatest fear is leaving
nothing behind: the world as empty as I entered it.

Because, what is left for us then? If love stops
becoming? What if it’s just us?

You want someone to wear your name:
Proof that our bodies are more than lost hours.


AFTER WE STOP TRYING by Erika Goodrich

Photo used under CC.