9/6/18

Sit on the porch
In the fading afternoon light
Smile and soak as much of the sun
Into this straining
Solar-starved skin as we can drink
Winter is making
Its way home again
Laugh at ourselves
Behind grim determination
To live fully in the lives we’ve built
“I think that was my chance
I will maybe never love again.”
It’s all laid out
In the lines tracing our skin
Noble failures, battles fought and lost
The lives we could have lived
People we could have been
Love slipped through clutching hands
Lost like tears drowned in the coming rain

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9/6/18

Written in a cemetery in Olympia, Washington while wishing a I was in a cemetery in Asheville, North Carolina.

Bone orchards dressed in rain
Putting pen to page
To paint portraits of our pain
Shadows fall across my splintered sight
Memories draped in Plain
Dressed in monochrome light
Awake to greet the gray

This place imitates
The threads of home
That we wove
Bruised and breathing bodies long

For bone orchards drenched in moss
Illuminated by a hanging moon
And the fires we forged
Through love and loss

Reaching for reasons
For where it all went wrong
All the masks are slipping now
Oceans rise and cough
As we pull off our skin
To make frenzied love
In our bones

Beneath the blood
Believed in the blood
Comingling as one
Under the eyes of the moon
Before it dried to rust
Before our promises
Crumbled to dust

All the stars breathing cold light
All the dreams that died tonight

Written in a cemetery in Olympia, Washington while wishing a I was in a cemetery in Asheville, North Carolina.