A Different Kind

I left you for a few months, we ran across the sea

I left you to find yourself in the London fog

write your history 

drown your sorrows in green, in leaves, in Blue Moon 

and whisky

in a third-story flat, a five-hour train ride from 

my Scottish hideaway

where I lost the world of leaves and vines for the dry free of sky

When I visited you found yourself drunk and confused, saying goodbye

outside the flat door - your eyes were asking but your hands 

and your mouth didn't wait for confirmation.

I let your lips find mine and we found different answers to your question.

I watched you follow your vine down the banister and 

outside to the tree-less streets, lost. 

On the train the next day I realized you've never really seen the sky.

I could understand - sun in your eyes - confusing clouds with leaves.