Visiting 17/10/26

1 day ago

1 min read

You Who Knew Me Best

I met a man on a narrow path,

between two crushing walls of rusting iron.

His eyes traced mine,

but neither stopped.

Onrushing we came though

glance or gesture neither shared.

No hate or rage or hand upraised,

but on we charged,

as waves through constricting canyons.

And onto blades we threw ourselves.

Dying then we shared a kiss,

though air was scarce for names,

and forgiveness flowed in curling streams,

down to a sunless sea.

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