Thank You

You are the words I couldn't say. The camera on the hill, unbalanced tripod photographing memories drifting away. I know I've got anger issues, but the horse was already dead. To the beat of my own drum you played the rhythm in my head. I can't tell you what was never said, but I'm sure you saw my eyes and I know you're well read. You were the kindest of winters in the season of untangled threads.
You are the words I couldn't say, live breathe or think. I couldn't capture your image because our (friend)ship would sink. I know I get sea sick, but your waves were empathy, and if I raised the issue you would have let me down gently. You were the softest of snow, under a reticent moon. And I treaded lightly across your shadow's hidden plumes.

You were the words I couldn't say, today or that day. But you were a vestige of humanity that I'll carry to the grave. A lesson in life from the most simple of gestures. And if I showed you the words you could string them together, and sew the torn thread from the day I don't remember. You are the words I couldn't say and I think that's why you stayed. Thank you.