January 29th, 2017: Shipwreck [poetry]

Stolen out by a cool, reflective surface,

to darkness beyond the breath of life.

I’d like to rest in the wake of a storm

with your head on my chest

and the waves’ shrill collapse.

We’re falling through the water and nothing,

strips of paper washing away…

 

Run in strange circles for a taste of cool air,

harsh wind cuts through between our words.

The pull of black water may take me away

to hard motion in darkness and silent descent.

 

I read a blue book about dying. I thought I was brave.

Among the brambles of night this air is too thick to breathe.

I don’t want to lose you.

 

Black ocean tide stretches out.

There isn’t a name for something like this.

Clouds fold over the moon

with storm whispers and cold.

 

I woke up on the shore with a broken arm and painful throat.

The sky turns clean and bone white for dawn.

 

I tried to write books about you.

My hand always slipped at first.

On the left you can see the world

and on the right taste long cool breath.

 

I am gone tonight, drinking to your soul.

Do you remember yourself?

I learned your name under a crescent moon.

Your voice is the breeze on my remains.

I think you were holding the dreams

when we got cut apart and lost.

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