The Past

It slips away
Without sentimentality
Or contempt
Some days
Out of the corner
Of my ears
I see
Places frequented
People persisting
Grounded in that which is familiar
And safe
The framework of my mind
No longer nostalgic
or commonplace
But no longer distant
Imploring me to let go
She slips
Receding a few feet
Into the sea
Each and every year
Sometimes we romanticize it
Other times we set fire to her bed
Of rocks
Stoned in the conscience
Of those who rebuke
And say I can't understand
Because I haven't tried it
Today I reminisce
That is all
Muted by new circumstances
Though grounded still
I grow frail
Death indeed stalks us every day
I remain afraid
By the choices I make
Or fail to make
Seeing that which is tangible
Pass away
As the mind overwhelms me
I feel myself longing for what is
In front of me
Nothing is perfect
Though in some ways
I strive to climb out
Of my ordinary abyss
And accept that it's no one's fault
People change
And I must move forward
Sometimes I wonder
How long it would take to bleed
To  death
That may be the only way for him
To loosen the ties that bind
To let me go
Amicably
Nobody will remember me
When I'm gone
The transcendental plebeian
Whose effort wasn't good enough
No wonder she lives alone.