wreckage

wreckage of a decade 
sorts itself 
into half-remembered nights,
bleary-eyed interstate drives
and moments too awkward 
to have lived through.

photos smear at the edges
as the scene inside is slightly
out of focus again. you make
a narrative from the pile
that you are sure is close
to how things were. 

words seek comfort from 
one another, hoping to bridge
the chasm they have made.
each word reinforces what is, 
what has dissipated. read
the page. another sunken ship.

Panthalassa

Every snow is fleeting.

All rain dissipates

or heads to a source.

Words from our tongues

cast memories

of love once professed,

now forgot.

An ocean,

a depth unimaginable,

distance too wide

to ever cross.