The endless thoughts overflow in my mind and leak everywhere.
I saw you at forty years old today.
The age was clearly etched in your face.
I saw the fatigue, the
change in your presence;
you look...good...
for the time that's passed.
Any doubt about your
identity was erased when your
eyes--pure, clean, penetrative--
probed my soul, and you
laughed inwardly at my terror.
It isn't fair. Your experience
and full life is evidenced
in all your weathering.
But I--I am still young.
And empty.
It's so obvious
that in your life
you have moved on.
My heartbreak, however:
it is frozen in
an awkward adolescence.