I saw his face again last night.
Soured with drink, mindless to think
about anything not immediate.
I saw it like the glimmer of an old man's youth.
Regarded his visage like the semblance of truth.
But in the end, came away with nothing.
If I thought that I could keep him,
I was wrong.
If he thought that I would want to,
He was wrong.
And so we crawled, under barbed-wired
expectations.
Careful not to get caught,
mindful to remain silent,
when the words might have saved us from drowning.