Momentum.

  These airs that we play against each other and for-nestled into the words that we speak and the actions that we portray-give us a false sense of hope and flashes of what could have been take over.  They are our vices.  Our limitations-stuck in dirt-and we find ourselves up late at night trying to understand what we have done, what we have preserved.  We find our dreams set in the cellar, holding our hunger during the winter.  Canned peaches.  There sweet nectar still reminding us of summer.  I venture out into the chill.  Snow covers my feet, but I go on searching for you although they have told me that there is no hope.  That you are dead to the community and that if I go on searching for you-I will be too.  Thinking that I hear your voice, I run down the bank of a frozen creek.  My foot collapses into the ice and as I am struggling, I think of you and what you cannot remember.  The cold water enters my lungs and stops my heart from beating.  My body rolls to the bottom of the creek and I am lost as well.  They looks for us.  Mainly because my mother is worried and wondering where I am and when I'll return.  But, they do not find me.  Or you.  We are both lost to one another and to everyone else.  My body has begun to rot-skin falling from my cheeks-food for the fish.  I do not rise.  Without you, I fall further and sink down into the muck.  I do not know that you have been buried by a stranger in an unknown and unmarked grave.  This stranger gave you more care then we ever did-then they ever did and for nothing in return.  I only hope that one day, we can remember together what we have lost.  I laid in bed and thought of nothing but you, endlessly wandering the corners of my mind for the person that had once loved me.  But, there is nothing there but sand and the chaos of not knowing.