I’m Sorry.

always–gold:

I will remember us
on your living room floor, only dressed in
firelight when the autumn rain
spilled down your windows
and midnight swept itself quietly
past our wrists

In the hammock, my lashes
buried into your sleeve
I think I began grieving us
then - when you couldn’t meet
my eyes, telling a million
stories then, begging you to
listen

You were soft as water
and I couldn’t get a grip
when you became hardened,
and your face empty, I wept
for you, there was no
in between.

And I’m sorry I memorized
your hands, because they
are all over me in this
single bed, and your voice
telling me I’m okay,
I’m not, and I’m
sorry about
my scissor words -

I just couldn’t continue
to watch as we
died, burning bright
and then silence -

Winter came early
this year.