The innate understanding we were a fragment of a memory
an ash that never became a phoenix
you were the disconnect that existed between us
seconds became minutes, minutes became countless hours
where the black hole of your soul would devour
all the light gleaming from a young boy's eyes so full of desperation of your acceptance
all this time saying your name with the most respectful taste of reverence
regarding every letter with such esteem that I only uttered it when the wind would cease
allowing every syllable to release
with such crisp and pure annunciation, so unmistakable from other words stammered in my speech
I gave you everything, not in the tangible sense of the meaning
every ounce and fiber of my being
now the tears that roll from my weathered cheeks seem as if tokens of a past that never existed between us
I was the ash that never became a phoenix
never thriving in the fires of discontent and a past in flames
I pray for the wind so I may never speak your name...