As I sit inside twenty

As I sit inside twenty

I find my thoughts mutually exclusive.

I reach to grasp in my hand,

two things

that do not coexist.

The constant motion of my days,

unattached and reckless,

bring fear to the idea

of entanglement

that would inevitably slow me down.

Yet the deep desire for a handful 

of roses at my doorstep

lingers after every empty compliment

paid by lovers who do not love me.