I wish that I could express my photographs
of faulty memory and crushed hopes
like you can.  Perhaps
then I could set them free, light
each word on fire and watch them
fly like you do.

And I listen to your
voice wavering
out each new confession and I
think someone found you,
pulled your soul
out and washed it clean
with Clorox bleach like Love
has done to mine.

I was a missing person
and now I've been discovered, someone
saw my picture on this milk
carton in my lover's refrigerator.  Shined up
and made new again.

I just had to
lie down by the ocean.
I had to be pulled out to sea
to drown who I had become.
Because sometimes
the sadness has to fall away.
Sometimes
you can't break anymore
and there is nothing left to do but
rebuild.

Recover.

Because no matter how long
the winter is,
spring invariably follows, nipping
at winter's cold heels like a toy poodle.

And when it comes
I'll remember how to breathe
in the air so sticky with flowers
and bright with blue sky.

You taught me that.
I wish you knew.