The fact that you exist,
Like a red and virile fist
Pulsing life into spaces I can't reach
Your name etched on your wrist.

The way in which you breathe
If I could wear that on my sleeve,
I would
Forgive my sin, Marie
All my best poems are about you.

There's things that we are missing here
Things that we forgot,
But it's the little golden hairs
That were definitely there.

And it's the way in which we knew
Just what we were going through
And just what we were not.

But they're there when I crest and I rise up
With your smile
Crash like a wave but I miss you by miles.
The little golden hairs are reflected by the sun
And I'll die with the husk of your memory
Chewed by time
Inside my quiet cortical
Tomb