Dearest beloved

do not hurt for things you’ve lost,
for (falling ever faster) life is simply
events which gather (specks of dust
gently settling in your memory)

of which many pictures cluttered in
the side (i glimpse them all) view
pass so sternly, the feeling first
is painted over (lost in memory)

and the desk you love to live at
now, will ever be that one which sits
cross-legged, chin resting on hands,
patient as a girl sighing,

dearest beloved

i am so
restless for your (elbows, water
glasses), …for what it’s worth