The Kitchen Knife is an Old Friend.

Rough, old winds drummed against The side of our shack, our lean-to home Barely dead rain dampened our spirits – Throw a stranger an unexpected smile. Bitingly blue memories scream at me – Why are you no longer here with me?! Under the blackness of the hanging wet – You set fire to my eyes and I haven’t been able to think since The sighing road leads hesitantly to where you are – Gave all our things to the man in a headlock Winds push against the yawning of the sky – I WILL get to where you are.