Later

I ask him to live with me today,

he says, "later."

I ask him to hold my hands,

to call my name,

to look me in the eyes and tell me things

he was always afraid to tell anyone else,

he says, "later."

I ask him to take my love,

to feel it for a moment, to feel what it’s like

to not be dead for a minute.

To breathe lightly for a little while,

he says "later, later today."

I ask him to come to me,

to not make me hurt, to

confess to himself

what I know he already knows.

He says later, he will do it later.

He steals all of my todays

and I am voluntarily robbed.

I spend todays after todays in hope to purchase

with them

his later.