She told me frankly that we were nothing special. My youth recalls the feeling as I paced through the streets. Gut-struck by the punch deep and low in the belly. My breath shattered into a million tiny pieces. My back falls to its knees searching for the beat. Drowning in surprise, the heart keeps gasping. Eyes claw their way up on the raft of belief. Now stranded on this sparse island. Vultures circle my hope laying fetal and panting. My destiny revealed in a feeble lonesome shadow. It stretches across the dunes as the sun slips away. In the dusking quiet i notice the moon has her company. Up there, deep in her mood. She reflects a lover’s burning passion. Pools of tranquility look down on me with pity. Sometimes i notice the stars don’t twinkle. They pulse an S.O.S. across the thick dark sky. In this cold, in this wind, in these bones, I am my hermit. I wrap my fish in the news of a family. I spark my tinder from a message in a bottle. I paint my cheeks with the ashes of our fire. It burned so bright, but so does my drumming. Through my nose. Out my mouth. No need for pinching. Alive and feasting on regret’s bloody throat. Healing is overrated. Scars are trophies. Memories are ribbons. Your’s is velvet blue with a giant gold medallion. Life should be so very proud of me.