The realness is slipping
into memory and I’m reminded
of the ocean, its skies just another body
bathed in rain.  

I remember we held hands
so perfectly in the deepening light,
the air around us dusking a type
of lead never erased.  

I used to write you buckets
of words, letting them pour across
the space between us as I prayed
a bridge or a boat.  

Your hands were the bridge
You’re slipping from mind
You were my favorite ocean
You, I prayed, You.