my attempt at explaining why we died

"And that taught me so much; //
It taught me that rivers are better than lakes and stagnancy, //
And that I drown in sand every night just to feel the sting. //"

I once called this poem "HOPE" and I never knew why. Now I think I know - it was our only hope to live again, and my only hope of an apology.

Okay. //
Okay. //
I was a drowning desert and you came too close //
And I guess I didn't push you away either. //
I would spit up fire and blood and cradle them close //
And you understood. You gripped my forearm and let it be. //
I'm too sad to be real, I would whisper every night, //
This soul is tearing to shreds every day. //
And you shook your head, and told me that knives //
Do nothing but drip loneliness and sorrow. //
But I would string myself up with the stars every night, //
Loving the moon and soaking in the ink of darkness, //
And I thought it made me a beautiful despair. //
But you were a heartbeat (a constant) and I was static, //
I was too folded up in sand and salt and sea, //
So when I twisted the sun into hatred and threw it on you, //
You didn't stand and swallow. You took the clothes you left behind and left me in the ashy wake. //
And that taught me so much; //
It taught me that rivers are better than lakes and stagnancy, //
And that I drown in sand every night just to feel the sting. //
So, I'm sorry, for ever gripping you tight and sinking too deep //
Just because I thought the fire would weld us together. //
Because the water now seeps into my lungs, and I understand it. //
Okay? //
Okay? //

The End

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