Collective History

our collective history
built between eons of breadwinners
and backbreak
written in moments of stillness
to remember
struggle
has never dripped your sweet name
never gathered your filament kiss
my skin has frantically announced
with poor penmanship
that this is a travesty
my sighs do little to explain
history is made by winners
your frame on mine is not a game
is not a struggle
the story of us will blink out
far sooner than communism
in theory, I have some type of reason
in truth, the story of us
was built without trying
it evolved like flight
like flowers
purposeless and necessary
it will fade into the universe's reason
without trying
we've come to this conclusion:
the epoch of humanity, of existence
is happening in our brief gaze
at each other