the sinking in mud

out there
in the mud,
where everybody sinks,
i just want you to remember
how my eyes felt as
i held your hand,
promising to never
let go.

the sun was there.
it was always there.
i don't know how you didn't see
it.

and i know you.
i know how beautifully complicated
your insides are,
and i was good with what
i saw.

sometimes people give
everything, including
their burning flesh,
and it's still
never enough.

and here we are
back in the mud.

you sever my hand
at the wrist,
with that hand still in yours.

i handed it to you,
and let it slip.

and at this point
there is nothing left
to do,
but step back
and head towards the mud's
shore, fighting the urge
to look back.