Looking back to being born in the night
Of still, warm air and too shallow water,
It’s no longer you that I miss, no longer
Your beauty that stirs me, no longer our
Story I want to tell or our past recapture.
I miss the self I left lost in the moments
We scattered like dust motes in a wind
That was always blowing between us,
The self I chose to leave behind with the
Fading memory of a girl high on a wall.
Your heart can break and die and fall to
Pieces like bloody shards of empty glass;
The dark can last a hundred solid years,
Dull as sand and yet like sleight of hand,
Someone new may suddenly dawn for you
And all the rest of your days may be borne
By a weightless river in a full new heart.
