trying

I imagine you, now, 

with skin soft as 

the stars

that line your 

mouth -

with torrents of future

tides raging up

from cold waters

south.

Will you think of me,

then,

when your lungs are

stretched and your

knees bend, 

weary?

Think of the mornings

of a tired heart 

beating, lain

upon your chest

so clearly?

And the breath

that escapes 

your lungs when

you're reminded of

the love that

was lain before you, 

freely -

Will you hear the 

crack in your 

ribs, 

when you think

on how we almost

made it,

nearly.