Climbing streets we used to equate with mountains
but slipping on the pavement
falling faster this time around
when I hit the ground you won't be there to remove the gravel from my
wounded elbows
I have to do it on my own.
I learned to sew my own seams.

Swimming laps in waters we used to call holy
Forgetting the strokes you scratched into my mind
this time is different because I'm not trying to swim anywhere fast
I'm doing anything I can to stay above water.

Breathing in pollen
from gardens of lilacs we planted together
that are now covered in weeds
But I am not sowing what you will reap this time.
Taking the nectar from late July days that are now far gone,
and creating sweet honey for only me.

We are on different terrains now and
your water meangs nothing to me