I think that you and I have always met.
Wherever there's a world big enough for two people to get lost.
And wherever the lost lay their heads down too low to see.
Right when we both get tired of the pain filling the lamps in our eyes.
But right before the bags start blowing in the wind
or the dust dances in the corners,
Or the blade hits bone.

I think that I always hear you first.
And your voice is a bagpipe war cry.
And the hand on the top of my head is removed all at once.
And I break the plane of the ice water fast.
And as we rise we lock eyes.
And we smile.
And our smiles explode open to syphon as much life as we can inside.
And we pour our pain into each others lamps.
And our lips will light the wicks.
And we dive back down.

And this time we choose the floor.
The coral bouquets.
The hotbeds.
The shipwrecks.
We are the bright lights moving in the dark now.
We are the ones we were afraid of.
And we are not together.
But we don't get lost so easy anymore.