The scraggly North Carolina beach is cold, grey and windy.
I sit shivering in my worn out hoodie as slate waves crash.
The sky has no secrets to tell me, to lead to what was lost.
The sun is there, covered by a cataract of coming storm.
What dreams are washed out as the rains fall, and I remain.
Simple beasts all so proud to burn ourselves for some paradise.
Talking apes and cruel hearts prideful in good deeds, righteous talk.
Nothing stops us, so we do as we please, unto death, marching to the sea.
I still dream of her, Jody Page, and the simple, beautiful life we talked of.
I still catch hints of her strawberry perfume, and a laugh like hers.
I can’t remember the feeling of us asleep, her head on my chest, content.
I can’t remember how it felt to kiss her, and feel wonder in being alive.
The magic is all used up from my worn out hoodie, the armor she gave me.
It’s all the rain and colorless skies and love that only bleeds out our souls.
Holy love is infernal violence, and she is lost to me, and no one stops the bleeding.
I still ache for her, and what I once thought could have been, but humans desecrate.