Through the window of your hands,

my fingers trace scars

and I am reminded of the tideline.

I didn’t know the sea could be so black,

but I suppose I should have known:  

loss is dark because

it takes more than one color

to make.  

Take me from the shoreline

I want to understand

what wild is elsewhere.

If you write me

notes in the dark,

I swear it will feel better

than a promise.

I want to understand

why you don’t sleep

when the sun goes down.

Embrace me with your sorrows,

convince me no one is ever

who they say

I’m not the one who broke you

and you’ll never understand how much

that hurts.