more beautiful than any soul i’ve ever known
pretty as the sun coming up over snow
praying to a sky that’ll listen when it’s cold
that mine could be the hand you hold

tendrils from my brain
sick and twisted
sinister things that grip
and bring pain
disassociate, i feel a sweet wave
of relief, relax and this pain
starts to recede
i’m vacant
whatever misshapen
false sense of relief
decides to retrieve
the fragments of my grief
it’s his to keep.