“Come to me,” I said
my last deluded act
knowing all that I
am now not everything
time has stolen
from me still pitilessly
takes and will never return.
The clock ticks on flesh
falters on the bone
’til nothing one has
is worth the offering It was
always already far too late wasn’t
it past due from the start.
I wanted to believe in eternal
possibilities hoard those
secret shameful treasures
in cigar boxes childish
things that should have been
put away long ago.
One glance in the mirror
reminds me that this is no
country for young men.
I will not ask again.
The enjambment was used really interestingly here–the way I kept rushing ahead and then trying to backtrack and reread really struck in what you were doing thematically.