Before

Before.
What's in store,
as the door slightly creaks
and you
are continuing to peer through.
Anxious for the minutes
as the time came to pass.
I verbalize yesterday
but worry about tomorrow.

Lovely days of before,
chest clenched and sore
only by the ties of narration.
I tell about your virtue
in storytelling lore
although
I don't think my counterparts feel the same.

Conclusions about before
often a reflection you seemed to ignore
as I fight for a valid reason in this convocation of obscurity:
opinionated plebeian biased irregularity.
Friends who turned out to be enemies
sent out a draft
but I didn't go to war.

Instead
my heart just aches.
Some ghosts are actually alive.
These days, I lock and bolt the door.

I'll be Poe if you are Eleanor.
Haunting me
not in mustering flight
but with nightmares that I may not be able
to see you again.

Rest yourself
and be assured
I am as authentically real
as the last time you remembered.
Impermanence of life
pushes even the most stubborn....
One day this may not be a recollection
but for now
everyday I carry you with me
I love you just as much as I did before.