that's mrs. mediocrity to you

sitting shoulder to shoulder on on earth’s last boulder
remembering things we thought she said and forgetting
the way it rained on the night we learned

forgiveness.

in a drawer upstairs lies a box full of words
mine, not yours, his, not hers, lined with the echo
of unspoken progress. we never stopped moving

and thought shelter

was hidden in a shadow somewhere deep
beneath the ocean of your bed. i never asked to be held
and the waves kept breaking, even after the whisper:

you won’t drown.

.

.

.

A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month. Day 2
I’m participating in NaPoWriMo, and Writer’s Digest Poem a Day Challenge.

Today’s theme from PAD is he said, she said.