There is something of you I will not let go of. Honestly I don’t even know how I would go about doing so.
I am perplexed
because I want to do right by you
and console you in the quiet that has settled like dust on us,
But I have shaken and walked on.
I don’t want to leave you behind.
I carry you like a wounded bird because I have wrapped your wing gingerly before,
I carry us broken and hollowed out like a coconut with no milk
Because I may not thirst
But there will vividly and commitedly
be the memory of when I drank