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.

You told me I reminded you of a painting you once saw.
Acrylic strokes, not able to spot a single flaw.
You described
every crevice,
every edge,
every brush of colour.
I pictured a girls eyes gleaming as bright as the summer.
Shaking your head you told me to search.
Deep down you said there's more to her.
An ocean of stories having yet to be told;
a heart is the one thing that never grows old.
You went on about her left eyebrow
and the creases in her lips.
How lost she sometimes looks,
and the placement of her hips.
Imagine a girl only loved by some,
people only notice little things about her,
like the way she twiddles her thumbs.
Look at the way her collarbone curves,
I smile,
your voice telling me to give it the appreciation it deserves.