We soaked in the rain

                For hours that night

                                Searching for answers in the fog of our breath

I’d never noticed

                How fragile you were

                                As you clung to the sleeve of my shirt

Our breath was steady

                Calm at best

                                Rising to disappear

A starless night

                We couldn’t have cared less

                                You were mine; I was yours

Our Shade

Whenever I come here, it comes to this:

My trembling hands caress the wound we inflicted

on the ribs of the secret oak on the 8th of May

Crushing flowers with our backs

in the tumultuous years of adolescence,

I wonder where you're on your back now

and who's getting to know your nature.

Our branches have been hacked apart

with the nomad axe of your Lieutenant father.

We did our P.T. under a blanket of shade

with no one around to bark orders

or make us push up when we wanted to stay down.

You dug out trenches with bare hands

ripping across my back with periwinkle nails.

I wish you'd never cut them

so I could still be a part of you.