You moved around the perimeters

of my life, circling for years 

until we met like a collision.

Your arrival was late, I was drunk

and finalizing my third decade. 

Heart deadened to emotion or compassion, 

you lit a blue fire that threatened 

to upend my errant living.

I could taste hope in our shared

bottle of whiskey as it burned my throat

beautifully. I didn’t grimace, still a man

in my coke-fueled double take.

We basically inhabited bars and music 

venues, and I fell for you like one

reveres a ghost still among the living.

I stared at you like a vulnerable

old cat in front of an unmovable 

brick wall. Why did you stay put?

Why didn’t you walk away when you realized 

the suicidal sentiment I was burning through?

What binds your existence to mine,

never letting go, always pulling 

me back like the darkest waves 

belonging to the sea at midnight?