Is it truthful to say that
you’ve tolerated my absence
more than perhaps what is
justifiable?

We keep going back
(right on cue)
as if the timeline
were voidless,
like you’ve placed
a bookmark on our story.

Somehow the past
will always retain meaning.

I’ve hit a point of effort again,
and I’ll try to jump in again.

Soon we’ll be on our way:
and though maybe fear is needless,
I’d rather not risk a premature
end to what ought to be
our mortally eternal saga.

We can’t stop
(my newfound addiction
to) this shindig called life,
and I know we’re gonna win big,
but what is success,
if I’ve lost you along the way?