Passed down from ear to mouth to
Touching palms, these thoughts are faded—just like
My shirt, close to yours and
Easing out the color, replacing it with
Bitter blanks and spaces in between the color.
This, this is what you do to me.
You said: The only lives we hold are not worth keeping
Not a dime, and my eyes followed a sail hovering
Dangerous against the backdrop of the
Horizon, not daring to say a thing.
And even then, as the sail disappeared the last time, when your
Eyes were turned away, occupied by
Sand, gathering beneath our feet—
And even then, I was being cleaned, rubbed away: gray and shapeless.
Yes, they are worth keeping.
[ Then, when he turned his shoulders to the wind, he smiled widely
And it was like he'd looked at the world; and
Found that maybe it was not quite like he expected
(Maybe it was her) ]
When I came and lined our toes, you were surprised (but hid it well,
Kept it buried just behind your ear)
Touched me lightly, and I didn't pull away.