What happens when we all live to one-hundred?
I am expecting more wrinkles than I have now,
A year before, at ninety-nine.
I've lived for so long,
Death shall I make it past that hundred mile mark?
I feel so tired in these days of Fall,
I'm wilted, I think, like untended petunias,
Like leaves scalding in the midday sun.
My wife is long gone,
My wife I loved and made love to,
Well past the age of fifty,
She died at sixty-one,
I sit remembering,
My time alone.
This horde of trees reflect exactly how I feel,
This decaying oak,
The willow tree caving in,
The bent, broken sycamore tree,
It's branches growing towards earth,
Weighed down, like me with heavy sins.
Butterflies flew now, the kind rare to winter,
Like old people having their slow, careful version of ***,
You might not want to watch it,
You who are young,
You who are convinced,
That when it comes to old age, an exception will be made.
But they still want to do it,
Weird love is better than no love at all.
                                                                     -**Firefly

Come on, now
darling, mine.
Work with me, head, and
stop.
You have become a
not
me
I have unKira-d
like the person i
was
Not "am" anymore
disappeared

Not sure if I was painted over or mixed
                                                                        in
                                                                             new colors new me;
                                                                                                               some still slightly seen
                                   No.

I have been Remade
Hello.
I am still Kira but now that kira has become me.
Kira.
Cuddly and Passionate,
or so They say
their Favorite,
but they haven't spoken to me since May
I don't believe those that think independence is the only way are very smart.
Because I am Lonely,
and it pains me
and how am
i
supposed to Succeed
when i feel like that?

kicking lonely through the autumn leaves
you wondering how life came to this.

but we're all still here,
like everything you miss:

the moment, the moon, the mirthful child's bliss.

staring like strangers who swear they knew,  
sitting on benches while shadows grew,
rising up towards the night's debut,
moving like moths near the light of you.

because when she was young,

people would ask her

"what superpower,

do you wish for?"

so without any hesitation

she replied "invisibility."

and then,

and then she grew up realising

it came true.