<untitled VII>

12:08a 04/11/05

as he wanders through

   the messier parts of

   my personal Hell,

 

our eyes meet

   and his tell me,

   he's been here before.

 

My mouth moves,

   but the words don't come.

 

His lips smile,

   he hears everything I don't say.

 

The flames of a history too

   deep to burry and too

   hot to jump across,

   keep his reach from my grasp.

 

I wonder if we've come a bridge too far.