January 4, The Process of Aging

when I was a younger man
with a head full of hair
and a mind full of promise
I wrote to you,
with pain pill-chalk
on the pavement
outside of your apartment

the only answer I ever felt
since then
is silence

so,
I therefore hope to one day
be an old man,
soul decorated with scars.
flesh heavy
with self-inflicted burden.
crouching over an old laptop.
worn-out fingers.
working, crafting
these makeshift words

so that I can finally
repay you
for what you did to me

on that day
and every day since.

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