I've heard a story that is so pure and cold
it must have been harvested in a sunless
ice age.
_______
Kindred and distilled spirits,
seeping through the cracks in the
strangers backs and colliding among
the beds of the deep blue.
Blue eyes and stormy skies
making a flood on the floor.
Close the window and open the door.
I've never
                  spaced my questions
as they could be; all the words
where they should be.
I've never been to a place
that's made me feel insignificant
What's the trouble?: Now I'm here
and I'm not being subtle.

I hope that my heart is still beating
when you awake and start breathing again.