Barefoot on Shore

The shoreline was unforgiving - dune grass shredding our soles to ribbons.
You never hesitated, ran like a madman through moonlight
Reflecting off your angled face like that fire in your eyes
on nights when the wind was too bitter to weather.

You were practically glowing, as we shed clothes wet with fatigue
gratefully slipping into the artificially warmed section of lake.
Who can be bothered with moral questions about environmental protections
When US Steel has created such a magical moonlit scene?
And sure, we may have been poisoning ourselves with this midnight dip
But I couldn't think of better company for the ICU.

I was never ok with letting this go.

These days I float in an old gravel quarry.
Ears underwater, focused on the sounds of my breathing -
The shapes of passing clouds.
Grateful for the reprieve from the smothering heat
that is this muddy beach, this green lake, this rocky shoreline,
eager to grind discarded glass into the soles of desperate feet.
These bruises and scrapes only serve as a reminder:
I left you behind.
"It isn't so very different from home," I think,
rinsing mud from the cuts in the murky water.

The smell of the basswood-studded shoreline
Only serves to underline this relentless passage of time-
I will never again shiver home through those beech-speckled trails,
Fearful of the unknown lying in that shadowed hike,
And grateful for the weariness of our silent footfalls.

All that's left now are echoes.
Like sea glass, time has taken from us all of those rough edges
that once fit us together like jigsaw.
Full stop.
Even that scar, that once made you so beautiful,
Is left just a pale reflection of the larger story.

I ought to be grateful for the healing, I think,
to no one in particular as I float here alone,
I ought to appreciate that I got out without looking back,
If we look back we are doomed.
I should be happy.
Full stop.
For am I not lucky?
Am I not lucky?

I whisper it to the breeze, who pays me no mind,
"I knew him when he was everything."

I sleep, sometimes better than on those sandy nights.
I dream, just no longer of you.