The Gist

I'm submitting my poems to some magazines, so I have to remove these ones. All of my "poem" posts are now gone; sorry, guys. But I hope you'll understand.

Ancients

"If I could understand myself, I would be dead long ago."

He said it with a kind of hope.

Honest

And perhaps for the first time:

I am sorry. I am so, so sorry.

I Have Become My Characters

Is it fate that, as soon as I breathe age into his bones--as soon as the slightest weight begins to rest upon his tired shoulders--as soon as my lot is thrown into his--I feel that selfsame weight pulling on my veins?