There was something about the last train out of the station,
Or the last smile on your face,
That ensured I was lost,
Somewhere between the future and the pools that lay ever so calmly in your eyes.

After years of trimming sides and cutting edges,
There was little to give,
But much space for you to settle into,
Somewhere between my lungs - heart - and the shattered glass and mounds of ash that held each in place,
Little is it recognized that no home truly begins with a solid foundation,
Only after the home is built does one have the luxury of forgetting the uneven ground that once served as a rocky home to those unready to develop.

We speak often of polluted land,
But rarely of polluted intentions,
Laced with memories that destroyed the body more than the drugs themselves.

Restoration of the heart sits heavily on my mind,
Some parts of the disarray staining your finger tips,
As I realized you did not hold responsibility or a simple solution,
Simply the means to an end,
That felt much more like a beginning.

And as you slept calmly,
I wondered how violently the waves of your ocean,
Crashed into rocky shores,
And in what places you let your feet sink into the smooth sand,
What waves lapped at the edges of your soul,
And how long would it take for you to realize that the only waves you could control,
Were those created by the beat of your heart.

And how heavenly it would be to drown,
In your presence,
Caught by the very essence of the waves of smoke and sound that flowed from your very being,
Do you not realize how the rivers tend to the ocean?
How the moon loves the ocean so?
And what peace it brings to the wanderer to discover the depths of another's ocean and the edges of one's soul.