He lays down next to me
With water in his eyes
And sand on his hands.
I taste forgotten flowers on his lips
and I feel worn holsters on his hips.
I trace lost language on broad, smooth shoulders
Where lead ghosts sit.
And from dusk till dawn
He cuts through starched sheets
While the rest of the world sleeps.
He has nightmares of drowning
And in the same breath
(Gasping for air)
He is just as scared
Of swimming
Indefinitely.
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