Two

Summer. Loss. Breath.

He understood it all, without a thought
And it was soothing
He knew without a doubt:
The way to make me cringe,
And the way to make me weep.
There was always something different in him...
From the rest of the world.
And I have never forgot it.
But with him, I understood nothing,
And he understood even less.
He was my own great failing
But there was triumph too
And in the face of so much life,
With all the words left to say,
And all the nights left unfufilled,
There is knowledge...
And there is today.