small towns

truth?:
i cannot
love. clumsy
or
selfish, embroiled.
there is
my own
delicate wind.
wave of misfortune.
why then can
i never return
where I was:
innocent countries,
carefree years, hopeful;
when love was
not fearful?
i, here, sea-
borne, calcifying
stale roots
grown. i am
becoming
my own coffin.

forget my name.
indifferent eyes
behold me,
releasing me to
my solitude.
such are small towns.
i came here
to be forgotten.