What Must We Do

What must we do to scrub clean
The residue of this misunderstanding.
The uneven cadence of our words.
The fated discussion of disillusion.
The abrupt shearing of our parting.

This wasteland lives on the other side of faith.
Climb the fence and come lay with me in the grass.
Watching the sky for the clouds that pass.
And the daytime stars that beam even brighter
In their effort to be seen—just like me
And just like you.
Here. Hold my trust and I will hold yours
And our eyes will become the green of the ocean
While our bodies become liquid and painless.
Come, lay in the grass with me and sigh
With the knowing of your completeness
In the vast nothing nothing nothing
That holds us all in a warm embrace of care.