Whatever cinders float,
my mind is captive.
There was a place for your chin and mine atop,
we looked into each others eye across;
we talked plain, but the subtext made my neck numb,
and I was dizzy when we went back to our business,
my light head floating up and glowing.

I've been reaching again.
There's a handle I'm getting hold of,
until I'll let go, because I know it's not enough.

So please burn through my paper thin, terribly worn-in
and unspoken short-fall,
because I can't get across to you.
We're only strays.