I Remember
remember the night I drove for hours,
just to share the last smoke of day
with you as the sun rose,
and you let me read the diary
you kept when you were little,
and we both thought,
all the words were about us,
and I told you where to find
the empty spaces I had covered
with heart-grafts and heat,
then you asked if I had extra,
so I covered you too,
and it hurt,
and scared us to feel whole,
knowing how easy it would be
for the other, to make everything
covered become permanently exposed,
and it would never be like this again,
so I traced the lines in your palm
until I knew that my touch
was normal enough to never
make you flinch.
If I could steal away the pain inside your words. I would make it my own. Carry it tucked deep inside. Far away from your sight. I would inhale like the darkness in your eyes and cradle it...harsh and chained within my lungs.
I would take your tears as though they were my own. And ignite them with Bourbon and a Bic. Douse the flames with the water of the lake and throw the ashes to the sun.