When we were young, all things were new
The rising sun, the morning dew.
Through you I saw the ocean first,
From stormy eyes I saw the surf.
I tasted summer in your lips
The flavor of the brackish mist
That lingered on with days and years
That veil of time was thin and sheer.
When we were young the summer months
Seemed everlasting, endless once.
Heated asphalt, mosquito'ed creeks
We dipped our toes to beat the heat.

When we were young, immortal then
I never thought there'd be an end...
I never thought I'd move away
I never dreamt you wouldn't stay...
I never thought when we were young
Your final song would go unsung,
I never thought there'd come a day
Your final words- you'd never say.

When we were young
When we
Were young
When
We
Were
Young
I never thought
You'd die.

Borderline, borderlands
Of shifting, whipping, changing sands
Around the ankles, grain by grain
You're buried once, then twice again.
The grains are hot, the earth is cold
Your failing stance will never hold
The North wind blows, then South returns
The nights are freezing, Sunshine burns.

A mile forth, and rain will fall
A suffocating summer squall
Another mile, and the snow
Will freeze you solid, keep you cold.

When you're around
Someone slips down the thermostat
Plays it like a violin
Drifting a decent toward
The most poignant Minor cord.
I feel lost within myself
Like an island watching a beautiful ship
Sail by without stopping.

And yet-
You leave and it aches;
Hurts like the thud of pulse
Behind a ripening bruise...
Feels as though my heart is about to
Rend my ribs and squelch
Painfully though the cracks
To slither away in your general direction.

In your absence
I realize that simple things
Can grow into necessity.
Tiny seedlings who take root
Can somehow cross time to become
A redwood with roots so deep
The foundation of the earth is never the same
When it falls.
Air is everywhere
And yet when its gone
Beneath tidal waves
It's more precious than gold;
Riches mean nothing when you're drowning.

The tourniquet
That staunches the onslaught
Of thoughts is precarious;
Sometimes running it's course
And becoming so soiled
That things leak through the cracks.
Those days are difficult
Two hands and a will of steel
Mean nothing...
He slips out and around my fingers
Staining everything with bright
Poignant memories of another time.
My hands, on occasion, are enough
And I'm all I need
Holding the edges tight
Teeth gritted, waiting for the sides to knit
Into something strong and new.
When the tourniquet is fresh though
I remember why I need it so much
Remember the softness of cloth again my
Bruised flesh and sign in the heady relief
He offers.
I don'twantdon'tneed everything hiding behind this flesh
Seeping out constantly