to be a soft utopian

So many ways to be sorry
So many ways to fail

you can poke so many holes in the moth-bitten momments
you can be surprised by the amount of tears expunged from your aching body
rhythmically rhythmically

always in tune
always weakened by the slightest stare
the mildest discomfort

how are we, so fragile and so softened to withstand such turmoil
created by our own hands
like home-cooked spinach

how are we to overcome infinite spiraling layers of guilt and grief
to love ourselves through action

When I rest my head
on your warm chest, rising and falling with each breath
I try to keep your memory in every eye that I catch
in every human fact that I learn
so that I can multiply this affection
extend my hands and my legs
intertwined, unified,
wrapped in bundles of sober emotion

lovingly stroking the universe