through a glass darkly

when

it's our turn

with it,

we seek

answers in places

we don't often

visit.

we look for comfort

in therapists,

we turn

to books for reason,

to priests

in long black gowns.

words we held back

on are stuck

in our mouths.

kisses undelivered

have gone

sour.

the roses limp

in the vase,

too late in arriving,

have gone brown.