The tree of life grows in a graveyard-
With my hands around the air,
I imagine you over there-
Sitting under the branches,
inhaling abuse
and
exhaling cursive.

He was destructively rememberable and i blame it on the echo
that fell from his lips everytime i made him smile

It would elegantly fly around in unspoken discomforts then
land on my ears in the form of a
goodbye