I suppose I could settle
in the embrace
of this plateau.
I suppose I could stop
jolting about-
striking hard
the way I often do.
I suppose I could hold myself
to standards
that beguile you-
murmuring my own highs to sleep.
and yeah,
I suppose I flit around
too often
and rummage too deep
and I suppose
I could loosen the grip
and bury myself in
or teeter on a steep.
I suppose I could even strip
all the matted and wild
and lend myself to query
and quarry.
I suppose I could..
but the dusk is set.
and my lightness is so bereft
of you and of could
that it is sudden and clear
that a lover should become
a loved and a loved
should become just
another,
as in
some other- .
my dear.

– Sheila Sea