We stand in this liquid
spot.
Foam covers your hair.
And you say; it was worth
the trouble.

I go to sleep.
Hope to put this
distance to end.

I stand in this vanishing
air.
Thinking I have a shot.
At your game,
of fast lives in slow deaths.

And they say; the divine fate
will save us.

I'm smothered in your
5 square feet of goodness.

And I'm drained,
out of those -
regularly striking thoughts.

You said you are
cold.
You blamed
that white,
wandering cloud.
Full of heavy,
shades.

You go walking;
in your festival
of no one.

And I'm just standing
here -
waiting on those -
usually surprising words.