Violin Concerto Among Transitions

When can I come too asked, she doesn’t see new signs on every changing corner.

Settling in, washed down thirsty gutters before our eyes, seamless among gentle rains of opportunities left unattended.

Right there, right where we belonged, taking a stand was never her thing.

Therefore one was made in her honor, or dishonor, doors sealed shut by her own nonchalant inaction.

Drive, hunger, motivation, all lukewarm. We lose lovers by standing still saying we won’t get dirty.

An empty house and vacant love are clean, but without action. I rather clean together and move forward, muddy boots in the dirt we’ve dug or flung.

Learning to be better, together, instead of waiting for the perfect time, so go, go then return to a changed city.

Silly, expecting it to stand still. Check your cards again, you were meant to step out and battle through the night with me but no, ease seduced you.

I’ll thrive one day, perhaps for only an hour but I will thrive, without promises on standby. Priorities have taught you a lesson, regret has its final paperwork signed, and you are still ignorant of how our lives have changed.

What are you thinking about after reading this?

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