And some ends

I’m not sad, 

I tell everyone.

And it’s mostly true.

I’m whatever I’ve 

always been, but

now my mask lies 

broken at my feet 

in sweet-smelling chunks 

of fiction.

I’m too tired to fix it,

though everyone

can see now 

how little I’ve kept.

Just some odds.

And some ends. 

But who can smile 

like before?

Before what, it

doesn’t matter.  

Before him, or her, or them,

and all their

counterfeit futures;

before the carnage

of understanding that

most crimes are simply

endured. Before

the after.

No, I’m not sad, 

I tell everyone.

I’m spare;

a collection of only 

the most dangerous hopes, 

waiting.