He drank and continuously created
white clouds,
Though he was withering he was beautiful.
He resembled a browning oak tree; leaves
slowly drifting in the wind.
Leaving the tree **** as nothing but a frame.
My darling, for you it was time, and winter came.
Squashing the burning tip beneath his shoe,
And mumbling the forsaken words,
I love you.
Hair a mess, and pinching the silk of my dress;
let's sit in a field and I'll pull at your hair.
I ask you if it hurts, but you don't seem to care.
The last time the air was clear back in
November, I tell you all the time but you
don't seem to remember,
How important you are
Now engraved in my bones.
When you're not with me I feel so alone.
Cheeks as white as the frosting of a
buttercream flower.
Lips dried, lungs died.
Over your pit I cower; calloused fingers against stone.
Christ, I should've known. Just know you'll forever,
my home.