Left with the imprint
of voices
familiar yet unknown -
Do we ever really know
another?
And what do we do with
this warmest of gifts -
heart beating, cupped
in shaking hands?
Why did I say those things:
old things, worn things?
To hold you captive in our
war torn past?
To trap you
In shared
knowing?
In the twisted
dark familiar words -
trapped and small and shaking
When we are here
and we are now
laughing drinking,
old friends yes
but I now promise you
the gift of every
moment new