Junebug

There weren't enough nights in a year for us.
You, with dim eyes glowing furiously, always knocking.
Doors, paper thin, my mind was an open book;
dog-eared pages worn unintelligible
from umpteen rereads.
Fastidious you studied, leaning into a
grindstone for hours; digging
deeper until stone turned to steel. Teeth gritted, marching on,
you played witness to me floating like a leaf.
A space dust cadet let loose
from a greater network of life.
The ground was thirsty, but my feet
were in a draught.

They were with us too-
The young men and women, the strawberries, the caramels. Whatever other flavours.
We drank ourselves stupid when the stars seemed so much closer. We melted together in
fits of passion. Surrounded but alone
beneath a hungry sky. Anguish eaten up
in greedy handfuls.

What we would have given for more time.
And we did.
We gave and gave until we had nothing left.
How often we fell asleep with our legs pressed together.

How often we were left wanting more.