the trunk, withered
the leaves, fallen
the Winter, dark

And as I sat there, in the midday
That tree like family skeletal
My hope was present
My hope was bright
My hope was you.

Do you know
that you are a light in my world,
that you are the smartest girl in the world,
that you are the sweetest person in the world?
Do you know
that you are the most beautiful person in the world,
that you keep me together,
that without you I'd be completely lost?
Do you know
that I'm not going anywhere,
that I'm all-in,
that I will fight for you,
for us?
Do you know?
Do you now?

Mija, if I could
I would reverse physics
eliminate the gravity wells that pull
you down.
That leave you starving weeping bleeding
hurting,
crushing you within themselves,
beyond the event horizons
the tragedies in your life have left.

But I am not that strong.
I cannot alter basic
rules
laws
components
of reality.

I cannot save you from the monsters in your head.

I cannot guarantee that you will always be safe.

I cannot say I will always understand.

But I am strong enough
to hold on to you,
beyond the event horizons,
until my fingers
are stretched by warped Time,
and I no longer exist.

But I will fight the monsters in your head,
until I no longer breathe.

But I can guarantee you will always feel safe.

But I can say that I will always listen, and try to understand the
nightmaresandtearsandhurtanddisintegrationofyourchildhood

Because, Mija, I know
that there exists light
beyond the dark break
of your event horizons.

And I remember fantasizing about your
Death
My hands wringing out your delicate
Throat
My weeping member pumping you full of
***

When you wake,
the clouds of your foggy head shall part.

My semblance of what I could be,
my treasure of all,
the ghost in my shell.

In comfort,
feathers drop like dew to your skin,
mocha, gold, soft and hairless.

My flower blooms for you,
in this bed of weeds.

When my inspiration is gone,
there is still always you.

I'm speeding down the road
looking at my phone
and the only thing
that's catching my eyes
are the telephone poles
waiting to kiss
my face.

This is dedicated
to the dead words
deleted.