With the Unkown

As your feet dig tracks in the sand
I feel less alone.
As I pour out my bottle of emotions,
your ears stay open and thirsty.
The silver moons crescent,
raining a shower of tides across our faces.
A swing forward,
and a swing backward.
Our faces illuminated by a moody glow.
We tangle words and I lose my thoughts
on tongues twisted in passion.
I feel overwhelmed, yet relaxed.
I hope for future stays,
but hide from your open gaze.
As bottles empty I struggle
trying to separate love from spirituality
and fate from fiction.
As you pass in front of cherry blossoms
I see how you compliment them casually.
I fear for strong winds and torn branches.
Cyclical damage that restricts growth.
Inside.
The nights are still cold, and inhibiting
as our demons still whisper powerful words.
Biting tongue, cross eyed slurring alcoholism.
Transfixed red-eyed circuit bent
mind dissociated  
wandering spirit with empty hands that
need holding.
This swing creaks under
opposing force.
This waning moon,
the tidal mystery of seashells  
carrying hidden treasure washed ashore
here tonight.
Just another night,
in a familiar place
doing the familiar,
with the unknown.