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.