Saturday, April 9, 2016

there are no photographs
of us together
except for in my heart
those pictures of us both
lonely and thirsty
and insecure with a lifetime
of misunderstanding

hiding in the dark
seeking a place to be what we are
in the hours of the night
where the noise of the world
surrendered to the peace
to be as what we were

and then colliding
the two of us
in that dream
familiar in the scent
of lives lived so many times
in tandem
we could not will ourselves
away from the knowing
of each other

where we have learned
that to find oasis
is to rediscover the one
who dares to drink our waters
and satiate themselves with the risk
of offering the last few drops
that they have left to give

so that when we drank of each
we painted pictures inside
a heart of our creation
and more than me becoming you
or you transforming into me
we reunited with the womb
of our lost mother
but also created the promise
of a child that we could be

a spirit and a home
where we can live forever
just as one
no matter where you exist
and I must be
more permanent than the colours 
stamped on the fragile paper
of a photograph

in the ethereal monument
that lives and breathes and grows
with the love we remembered
how to share
and all the eternal nights we have given
the last of our light
just to taste the few drops left
of the sacrifice of love
that offers itself
only to keep the entity of itself

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