Poem-A-Day: Day 15

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She stands
confused as always.
Always and never,
always never,
never was.

Like a blank sheet of paper
awaiting the next great
dialogue of modern moments
that would never happen.
Never and always,
never always,
always will.

It’s a transcendental moment of clarity
lost amongst the clarity of the night sky,
washed into the blackness
pockmarked by countless beauties
that hang like candelabras,
swaying with each upward glance
that happen to fall
at the end of every sentence.
Every and once,
every once,
once in a while.

It’s the feeling of surrender,
that tender slap not spoken
that goes without saying
for once in my life.
Once and every,
once every,
every day.

I stand,
like a simile,
painting suggestive pictures
of me
and you.