The lonely skeletons of the sea fill my pockets, still connected by the decaying cartilage of our affinity.
I am hanging on to them like the brown and wrinkled leaf who won’t accept the winter.
I keep drinking your distant words, sweet as anti-freeze,
Rich and sticky with human complication,
Nauseated by apocalyptic nightmares of rainbow thunder and deceiving maybes.
I have been electrocuted by your rejection, choked by the morning glories of what once was.
I blankly mourn in the prison of you, as the ocean turns to cornfield,
Watching the forgotten grass wait for spring under the broken umbrella.
Behind me streams a devastated high-way of pickled blood and briny tears I
desperately want you to follow.
Come back and tangle your legs again with mine like an octopus in a hurricane.
Together we can imagine that absent foundation for our beautiful walls until it is the truth.
We’ll be born again - this time with our eyes locked in a mutual trance of eternal love and glorious whiskey laughter found in the lost kale of Telford.
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