Under this same sky,
   I kneel onto a bed of silky white petals,
   knowing that you are somewhere.
Under this same sky,
   I know that you are staring at the same waning moon,
   thinking of nothing at all.
My tears stain the virgin petals,
   crystal confusion of memories,
   I speak meaningless words,
   for I know nothing else.
My tender fingertips stroke the liquid salt,
   my foolish heart forces,
   me to hold on to what hope I have.
You say it couldn't work,
   that you aren't perfect.
I find beauty in your imperfections,
   that reveal the little boy,
   I knew so long ago.
I find perfection in your imperfections,
   and I weep,
   because you can't find any in mine.
Under this same sky.

   

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