more words from Graeme-

Everyone’s compass blood misses the sea.
Wavering, needle-sharp yearning for the salt in the air like the salt in sweat.
The blue distance that pulls the eyes to the horizon.
Everyone has a sea that the flesh wordlessly remembers, an ocean that lives on only in our cells. Water that's warm and taut, the skin of the drum I stretch across the world;
Water that holds me up when I walk across it.

I delete his digits from my cellphone, cut his name from my email with swift clicks,sever the dedicated connection of his trojantrust, remove the flickring pics of his face, his smile, his eyes, his laugh, his fingers,the feel of his skin to the recycle bin, wipe his memory from my harddrive and punch him in the software, block his handles and avatars, his podcasts and profiles, his webbed words and IMs, his voicemails and texts, all the digital roads that led to my analog heart.