the dawn called for closure
whispered like your name
slow and short
between the breaths I counted,
remembered swallowing
and tucking inside me while
I waited for you to wake up and
make me make
love to you.

there used to be peace
beneath unconcious mumblings
and a peek of white

and with everything else:
lake colored in stillness,
the smell of dusty hair, purple
bunches pristine across the way
you snored and I tried not to stare too much.
the effort of three syllables
loud enough for you to hear through the whistle
of high altitude and the shimmer
of sleeping bags
was on my mind.

this was a morning of ends
(of the world)
among others.

as you swallowed, opened your eyes
and
took a minute
before clothing yourself under cover of
blue down
I worked out the rhythm and pattern
of all the “I’m angry”s and “I hate you”s and
“you are everything”s that I forgot to mention
these past three months.

it was beautiful.  

even as the tears started and you on that disintegrating rock
was all I wanted, I couldn’t help but
look down
and think
how happy I was to be staring past water to
scattered stones,
sand, a few discarded pine needles, all draped in 8am light.

and by the end
the only thing left that I was thinking and couldn’t say
was, “thank you.”