i forgot how blue your eyes were.
it's as if you used food coloring to enhance them,
and i don't know if that's true,
but they speak of cold breezes and tired days.
i could see the life inside of them,
struggling, juggling,
things weren't always so sick.
i could feel the color pulse,
as if your heart, (that is larger than the one
in "how the Grinch stole Christmas")
took turns with your grandfather's clock
hanging on the tobacco-ashed walls.
the depth of what you've done, i cannot compare with
a yard stick or the years i
cried for myself, over
the river and through the woods,
there was always another one waiting to take me.
you have something i wish i had,
strength to recover from the battles
on the sidewalks and needles filled with glory
and traces of your own blood.
the iceberg blue from your eye sockets are different from your veins.
crystalline. bright.
and if i could i'd take it all away, the desire
nagging at your fingertips and the
monkey
on your back.
but since i can't,
take each marble of faith and
save it for the rainy days
and rundown shading nights,
the minutes you need it most.

but don't forget to forgive yourself.