the river is strong today,
its hands gripping the edges of the earth,
pulling itself forward,
rushing toward something unseen.

the last shards of ice are gone,
cracked, floating away—
nothing left to stand on.
only water, carrying what it must.

love is a mirror, but what of the face staring back?
what of the moment when the glass ripples
and you no longer recognize yourself?

once, i held you like something holy.
once, i thought love meant to give everything away.

but the trees know better.
the river knows better.
even the dog, sniffing at strangers, knows better.

a single petal pushes through the dirt, undeterred,
knowing nothing of longing, only of opening.
what if it was never that deep?

then surely,
i’ll be carried to sea.
surely, i’ll laugh at my misery.
surely, the world will continue—

and yet, if the vinyl could flip itself,
if i could hold your warmth once more—
the weight of your body,
the quiet hum as you sleep,
my hands resting,
unconcerned,
on the curve of your back—
i could not say no.

but the river moves forward, always forward,
and i’ve hurt you,
more than you could forgive.