I dropped love
into a pit of infinity,
watched it fall—endlessly.
A shadowed epiphany:
I had loved you infinitely.

Smoldered black roses line your garden,
but I’d plant myself there—
under terrain, dry and bare—
and wait with a parched tongue
until the ash is done
corroding my lungs
from dawn’s burnt sun.

She was built on shattered dreams,
promises frayed at the seams,
wishing wells where hope waits at the bottom,
until the end of a golden summer greets autumn.

She never wanted the weight
of a thousand knives like freight,
all twisting flesh on her back,
circling around a single track.

Still, she runs her fingers along the rips,
collecting light on her fingertips—
a glow in darkness she will bear,
not to be consumed, but always there.