April 30: Correction

 And so ends Napowrimo. Thanks for reading. Maybe I’ll post more than twice a year this time!

A.

Earlier, I scorned the ocean and the sun. I forgot to mention that we came from the ocean

You and I

Crawled out in full jump suits

Found each other

Lost each other in a salty

Embrace,

One ringed with the terror of existence

and the joy of a companion,

And created all of “this.”

How could I stand to turn my back on it?

On you?

On this “this” that we’ve built?

C.

One day, I’m going to acknowledge

The regret I felt

As you packed your things

and strapped them to your back,

Slowly marched back into Gateway National Park

and lost yourself in the ocean.

How you told me that 

Walls

were more than what held

The spoils of our cohabitation

They were invented

To keep us contained.

Invented by me.

How I still see your jump suit

In that closet that we put everything we didn’t have a place for anymore.

I’m going to acknowledge that I should have grasped your hand and marched into the ocean.

I wouldn’t have anything on my person of value.

I would be content with “that.”

B.

I should hold onto this picture.

The one where you and I are linked

In an inner tube

Lazy in our travels

Down the river that 

We’ve been advised not to swim in

Anymore.

I have never known a happiness outside of

Home 

Like you.

I reached across for your golden hand

With my own

And just missed it

As a yawning rapid pushed you past me.

We laughed

And life was still 

“This.”