Josh, when dwelling
your finest life you’re a floodgate,
the final restraint between
us open mouths and emotions
we had by no means had or have had since.
Till you, we didn’t know the sky
may flip purple, or that our
bruised our bodies may very well be targets
for a kiss—from beneath a mustache,
sure, or from a needle. Thanks
for educating me to endure
with firm. Thanks
for displaying us that collectively
we will climate even weeks
of rattling at dying’s door.
And whenever you kissed me
you had been the primary man who touched
my cheek with out anticipating extra.
Even a father seems to be for reciprocity.
Even a lover thinks a kiss a door.
Solely yesterday the 4 of us
took ecstasy in a stranger’s mattress.
We had been youngsters prepared to die
to really feel that sort of love.
You deliver the OJ. You retain
our bras and boxers on.
You make the mirror clear
as we soiled up our noses.
However Josh, you opened too far,
you let all of it come down.
What’s it prefer to be a sense
with no physique left to open?
How ought to we all know
what we will take with out you
holding the flood above the dam?
Inform me the place you reside
if not above or with us, if not
spilling out onto the bottom.