Saturday, December 24, 2011

Lost Count

I saw it in your eyes
a lost Christmas morning
I was young, Shane was five
Broken toys and still more tears
I hate this day so much
I cried
Bruises and beers
before the magic got trampled

Perhaps not that morning
but some other just like it
There were so many
became scripted
blocked, choreographed
I had hoped someday, somehow
to laugh, shrug it off as the past
but it rips through me like a gunshot
Echo repeat echo
its resonance still

I saw it in your eyes
abstract remembrance
angry colors flashing
frustrated clinging
and slamming
as I had said to you before
again I said
You're not that person anymore
and then I realized
cupped my mouth
and cried
You held my hand in yours
and for a moment
we were fine

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