PAD 001 | Beachcombing (I hate the title)

i spoke with you about ever-after
but you bristled,
brushed it away,
and walked into memory;

so far from those nights we spent
in matching cover-alls, behind armour,
comparing mysteries and spots,
and battling each other's demons.

each stone, uncovered,
a vulnerability and an acceptance
unearthed and exposed

i spoke with you about exposure,
and we picked at our scabs,
stinging time, seething indifference,
demonizing each other's battles, now, too

patience worn thin, and armour threadbare

and I find I cannot comb your crumbs
from my recollection,
morsels of joy, flashes of happiness,
and all our memories of walking

+++

SDF