Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Memorial Day 2013
Four years ago you frolicked in water fights
held purring kittens to your chest
and marveled at starless nights, city lights
passage unfolded our complex history mess.
You slung pistol men across your hips,
but we learned semen doesn't fill self-esteem
you said it to me, through perfect teeth, trembling lips
divorced wisdom, "Marriage is about being a team."
Closing your eyes, as we passed under bridges,
"That's where they place the bombs, explosions;
sometimes my eyes open and just see sand ridges.
You know, I don't like to talk about these emotions."
Laid out on fresh baby graves we talked,
life, death, love, the world and our view
with bright-eyes, drunk baby cheeks we marked
stones with names of people we never knew.
Four years ago, you were my best friend
and after all this time, your death, nothing's changed
through your love, I grow and mend
despite as with all time, your body fades
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dandelion
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