April 29, 2014
We were woven from the same cloth, you know –
you to your essence, me to mine –
how fitting that beyond separate birthings,
chasms of years, we intertwine;
fervently pouring minds and hearts to mix
like holy water and rich wine.
Talk glazes the air, a sweet incense
divulging buried memories.
Will we ever be able to recompense
our lives, our emotions? Words are curling
into silence now, calm auras turning dense
with drumming fingertips and knowing stares
that only seek to show those things
we often took for granted:
silly phrases like I love you, I’ve missed you,
Keep in touch, and I’ll be back someday.
For when this day is done, we walk away,
still thinking to ourselves: You won’t be.
By Justin Davis