I should figure out how to forgive you.
After all you’re just an amalgam now,
a patchwork cloud of film reels
struck out in hues of cobalt,
vaguely human in shape,
a conversation starter I pull out
and dust off before parties.
But
I remember sewing the ocean together with grains of sand, desperate to
pull closer to your shadow and you once cried out to me that it
was possible for us to outrun this wind turned rain but we
outran the wrong way, since the air wasn’t thinner where we
ended up but thick with salt and heat, heavy in the lungs and I can’t forget
looking out across the islands for lamplight and
finding only fog and a love song.
No comments:
Post a Comment