Like Children

We met on ashes and graves,

You and I,

and frolicked like children under a

Scorching July sun.

We held hands and

Sang the songs

Of our muses and

Danced with the water nymphs

And went home at nightfall

With dirt caked under our fingernails

And grass stains on our clothes

And love in our crooked hearts.

We danced on a

Destroyed world,


And how they would have scolded us.

We made lives

Above the bones of the dead,

Like mischievous little ones,

Daring to create futures

Over decaying pasts.

How they would have spanked

Our wretched backsides,

And how we would have

Loved it.

Loved to know

We ventured out

Into the meadows

While our mothers called

From boarded-up homes,

And how we made music with

No thought of the deceased,

Just us and our

Disrespectful ways.

And how we would have thought

The blood that ran down our backs

Felt like summer rain

Because it was blood that had

Come alive inside of us.

Blood that had leapt up in

Our hearts as you tossed

Me in the air,

My white dress blowing up

With the wind.

How these cold metal bars

Feel not so encasing

Because we were once free, love,

Free like children,

And they can take our lives,

But they cannot take back

The memories that once belonged to us

And the smells of aliveness

That cling to my skin

Even as we go to meet Death.

Like children,


Like children.


Thoughts? I love those.

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