It's like this I've been
trying just to hold your name
in my hands
for a minute.

Before they were close,
(and you were closed),
I soared with dreams of clouds.
I pulled them to me,
they passed me by and brewed into grey.
A hurricane crashed against another shore.

Even the slightest sunshine breeds confusion, in places like this
drizzles of complaints, dazzled me white,
you drug me down. I cried floods about
rivers soaking rainbows through the streets somewhere else.

It doesn't make sense, this other-world where
the sky throws tantrums and people hole in
and life goes on
and people like you don't communicate,
don't ask about the sky and its sorrows and the wandering stars,
don't ask about the gray and brisk and colors,
you of all people I thought appreciated, at least, the contrast.

Well here's a contrast that you're obviously oblivious to:
silence.
The sirens have stopped.
The lights will rise with the sun while a city sleeps,
walls on the ground. Switched perspective.
Broken glass...
remembers sand and the origins of perplexion.
I am a grain of sand, softened to sweet simplicity,
flowing through rivers and settling in a new home.
Alone,
and alive.