a life was lived, a day was breathed
and the water crumbled and heaved
like the melted glass of windows in sun
except that's never happened before.
the day was breathed like hot dust
tainting my lungs with rust,
and your skin was burnt and i laughed
because you were pink and i was brown
and we looked funny and unfamiliar
in our newly coloured coats.
the bed was too big for us,
so i held you close because
i loved you dearly and i still do,
our friendship like the endless blue
of the river a few minutes walk away
fringed with mountains, tall and green,
and you could always reach higher than me.
we lived a life in a few short days
without any sleep, or at least fragmented,
and i said i hated myself and i meant it
and you didn't understand but also did
because you hid inside you a hate i missed,
and to this day i regret what i never did.
soon we left and soon you left,
the day was exhaled in a moment
that i never seem to find again.
those memories, once so vividly drawn
are floating down the river, then going under,
or maybe they're just put on shelves now, collecting dust,
as a life was lived and loved and lost.
