The Place Where You Live

For some of you
the ache in your body
has nothing to do with youth
which is what you’ll be told
when you’re found on the edge of your bed
like an aborted love letter
crumpled into a ball.
This is the seed of your happiness.
This is the beginning
of your comprehension.
For years you will seek an eternal fire—
believe in its constant warmth
until you are born
into the second half of your life
and you accept with sudden enlightenment
that every passion will expire—
that the beautiful fiction inside your mind
is as brilliant in the dreams of your lover.
This is when some of you begin to forgive
the intermittent ache in your body—
the one you have always welcomed,
nourished, craved,
but have so often mistaken
as a flaw in the center of your happiness.
For some of you,
this edge is where you belong—
where you’ll build your final home,
balanced between two intimate choices.
And without stepping through them,
you will lean on the gates of gardens
that belong to others,
where you will allow a shallow joy to bloom
from each of your innocuous daydreams
again, again,
and always again.


DeMaris Gaunt



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