Second Chances

The post-it said, Begin Now. Many of the reminders
you have around, telling yourself to move on.
The edge of the note fluttering, a subtle reminder, telling you that
its over.

Another post-it that says it was a long time ago.
Stuck on the screen, it said, Love You Honey! That now
says, it doesn’t matter anyway! You tell yourself to move on.
Because you have to.

Because everything else has. Because time has that essence.
It holds you in its grasp yet effortlessly flows through the
now cracking stucco of memories. Except,
you hardly see that.

Caught in a bubble, unable to look out. You wonder,
how a time that weighs so heavily on you,
can be so weightless. Caught in a bubble,
unable to look out.

They see you as they look in. And unable to see what
you don’t. And soon they give up too. And you even more
fervently wish for a time long gone. If only to move on
from that point on.

Running your finger across the edge of the note its
yellow seeming like aging memory. You wonder how long
it’ll be before it comes unglued unraveling hope to second chances,
knowing finally it’s not to be.