From the moments in the morning when the light creeps across the floor,
after the nightmares form into the reality of the day, those thoughts wash ashore
until my eyes stare aimlessly into the darkness and my mind drifts
and the alcohol has numbed my fight to stay awake. Deep in sleep, it lifts.
When there is no consciousness, no running, no forgetting, and no remembering,
placed into a single nothing, washed over me like the lighthouse, staggering
across an empty canvas, I am. I am aware you are unaware; your flight
is necessary and your return impossible and the love is fading and bright.
My heart resides in between the sun and the moon; years of light will reveal
a low appeal for a connection. Until then I can only put faith in concealing
my scratches and the few that offer their time, those people so beautiful,
timid and set. Your feet are tired, but restless. I give up; I am not able.