One Day Late

Time sure changes everything.

It transforms the parenthesis of reality. 

The things you once cursed, 

are the same that you lust.

And all you once shouldn't

now suddenly, you must.

Who could have guessed that I'd plead on my knees

for something I once regarded a disease.

The hours and the minutes that roll through the day 

Are more than numeric- 

they're you, sloughing away.

 

Once upon a time, what a relief it was

to see crimson blood upon white cotton gauze.

Anxiety and fear all melting away

the warm buzz of drunk sex and foreplay.

One more one night stand,

One less baby unplanned. 

What freedom it was, what a relief,

Dodging responsibility and unneeded grief.

 

Like sands through the hourglass, here I am now

Studying and researching and determining how

to make a life in my body and a beat in my soul

with ten little fingers and ten little toes.

Each month comes with grieving and racking my brain.

"Next month will be different,

there will be no blood stain."

 

Time can be a menace and quietly strong

Like an ocean wave that promises to carry you along.

It's too late once you've realized your place

Slow motion run in an impossible race.

It questions your motives while sealing your fate.

Right on time, or one day late.  

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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