moving on

(in the key of clack) 

::

we’ve left our black 
smudges on the pages 
of each other’s hearts. 

we’ve flirted, 
we’ve fallen.
we’ve phrased. 

we’re right here last callin’
glasses raised for one more
round, glass syllables clinked
and 
jackets donned. 

and now as we soldier on 
(as these letters, these words, these lines), 
we say not goodbye, 
but write on. 

::
With thanks to all poets and generous commenters for another awesome April.
Because in April, we poem. And on May 1, we rest.

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