i hear that train a'comin, it's comin round the bend

for a while i imagined the clean perfection of love, in its truth
i held a naivity deeper and more concealed than yours
mind keeping secrets from heart

while considering the overwhelming hopelessness and despair of others
catching only a glimpse of their darkness in its absolution
wishing death, and falling down in exposed vulnerability
folding and surrendering and swallowingness

has led me to the possibility of falling out of happiness and of love, of caregiving with a muted obligatory compassion; the constant struggle to explore beyond habitual indifference

and that they are telling me that this mundane adulthood is inevitable but
i understand now that none of it has to be with you.