it's never what we think it is
not you, but not me.
all there is is the rain,
the approaching night
a bunch of uneasy bundles of smaller
and smaller creatures clutching handfuls
of dreams and magic against
the twilight line, the inevitability
of decaying leaves and deep blue light
our shadows all stretched far
farther than we'd look
at the end you could find one
swaying and muttering, nearly transparent
saying something like i was there the whole way through
the only one who stayed
not even horrible or pitiable.
just so damn sad.