Fineshrine Hands

And so I gestured towards the soft contours of your crumbling wall,
Into which you fell like the dust settled under your unmade bed.
It cradled your shoulders and warmed the small of your back,
Ruffled your hair in the carelessness that you had grown into,
Grown too hot to hold like your loose cannon pointed towards the shore.
Who needs solid ground when the world is spinning out of control?
Collectively chaotic--the stars, the sea, our mortal souls,
We exploded like the cosmos, you supernova to my blackhole,
A fleeting effervescence these pearl white sheets could never hold in.
And as its lovely shatter battered the walls that rattled out a response,
It was this fertile churchyard soil in which your permanence ensconced.
Hail Mary, saving face, this sea burial was shipwrecked,
And beached a heavy heart into the depths of what was repressed.