You have not known what you are.
You have slumbered upon yourself all your life.
Your eyes have been as much as closed most of the time.
What you have done is already in mockeries.

The mockeries are not you.
Underneath them
And within them,
I see you lurk...

-Walt Whitman



BETWEEN hello and goodbye was our love. Somewhere there, some place, a glance, a look: we had loved. At what point exactly, I will never be sure; has anyone ever? Like in twilight, in what exact stretch of sky where night ends and a new day begins. But it was there. Somewhere beside a fading star, behind a sliver of silver cloud was a love felt, never realized. There. Bookmarked, written in ink now dried, forever ending.