Threads

Our tales marinating in dry youth
I feel are incomplete lines of poetry
Do you remember our cocooned dreams
As I would, O' beloved life?

You would laugh at this coy man
you won't have to tell me twice
I know the dreams are only mine,
To create, contort and shape
My chest has held the glue to mend

My longing has known all bounds, as I stare
I see, a pair of grainy faces melting in the dusty photograph
on this relentless march of approaching wrinkles

This realm of vacations we never wanted
The men we idolized, singing six feet under
The women we broke our hearts for,
I told you about them, would you remember?

Existence is defined by the sun being too late,
And the changing nights and bottles
O life, reanimate me. Meet me far away,
for I have dug my feet into the sand
Threaded in me all of these thoughts
Sewn together with blanks I remain to fill.