what it doesn't fill it buries
sidewinding shadows of shock
to hold hands with the passed
drowning in my own fragments
my bones hold history
whispers in sleep
did we wink and hung the last time?
the music was too loud to be certain.
I miss someone i haven't met yet
mourning my whole life for now
memories exist before they happen
in the blood, in the skin
the birds buzz
the bees hum
and the straight line
will always be both full and flat
the living go on living
the dead return elsewhere
and the rest of us drift
to shore
