i often find myself
six steps behind.

i’ve counted.

i often find myself
being lifted
& carried away to my happy ending
by my own self.

in my left hand i would keep hold
1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.
white rose petals.

& as i am lifted higher
i let a petal fall.

her aroma still among me
i’d let another drop from my fingertips.

each time i drift farther and farther away
from all sanity
her aroma strengthens
until i am left without a petal to release from my grip.

over time
after i’ve passed over the night stars
& the moon
my once white petals
are caught beneath waves
beneath anchors & rocks

and i still find myself six steps behind my own conscience.