I was in love once.
I was rife with it but
he was ripe with it
so it crumbled like erosion
drawing speed as it fell
down and down still.
It’s been awhile but
everyone leaves fingerprints
my mind leaves bigger hints
of what is yet to come.

Mostly I feel empty
but sometimes when I hear
the distant whistle of a train
I feel half full
I mean half empty
which is better than all empty.
But the half empty crumbles like erosion
dissolving in my stomach acid
and then I’m all empty
and maybe no one can see me.

But I know better.
They see me but they don’t.
Everyone looks different in their own eye
so what’s my eye against your eye
when my I is different than your I.
And when we’re going do we ever move?
Or do we just crumble?
And get whisked away like erosion,
down the slop of a mountain
to rest in the sea.

Everywhere we go we bear the prints
of those who we touch
of that which we see
of these that we hear.
So who isn’t a thief?
When hearts are made open
like drums to carry grief
beating their earthly rhythmic thumps,
sometimes they overflow
and we sweep the crumbs onto others
and whisper “bear my burden”.

Because we are human
and we must survive.
So we take the crumbs
and we break the crumbs
like erosion.
I’m crumbling
and you’re crumbling
and he’s crumbling
and then, we see each other.
And move on.

Because, in tacit,
we are human.