my help is like
dust on her sheets
a breeze when she sleeps
effort drips from hidden cracks above
into 2 silver buckets
that I carry and slosh around
with hope
I blow kisses that never land,
and blink but stay foggy
our love lightly dances around us
through the days
and the knowledge-induced haze
but I understand when she looks away
would I, any other way?
Ungrateful Bliss 