Smell the daisies,
walk down that little path,
where a smile flashed whenever i passed,

sun shining in a way,
where words can only say,
how dare you take it all away,

I knew it was the last,
smile of our dog,
running so playfully,

even though you called, and said the bed had room for me,
and he seemed sick, but my optimism didn't let me believe,
and so i didn't leave, and asked he live another week,

alone, at night, you heard the fight,
I should have been near to smite their light,
but our kitten was lost, to whom we were a light,
wandering and lost, on a random night,

Astray because of me, and he,
fading and trembling, searching for you and me,
and lost his fight, and it was the day,
but it felt like night,

I'm sorry is all I can say,
and my optimism keeps me in this way,
a shell of hope fighting against dismay.

Got nothing left,
telling me what to be and do,
and you've left a mess,
and the shattered me is true

a mirror with burns,
a knife next to an urn,
pictures folded up neatly,
a frown too buried to come out

my eyes are closed now,
I'm listening,
I'm tired,
I'm missing.

I'm writing to you from in-between the last page,
it's descendant and the spine, of the world
a typist creates, and a writer imagines in his soul,
where the former has an unknown bearing and suffers
no toll.

I displaced your thoughts not because I could,
nor because I understood, I did it because I am reckless,
I did it in poetry's place, because to call you in prose
could never satiate what the composer proposed.

Madman before mad men, pitchforks and fires in angry homes,
where they begin, before their machines of sin,
I am the well of the unwell, I fought for, before, and tore,
your kin.

Candles, courting beauty as her dress trails the heaven
before the floor, grace in a body, undressed for us mad men.

I don't read,
because you took my eyes,
with well thought lies,
you dug at my heart like something you despise,

Darling, I could have called, you
underneath the blood you hated and so spewed,
darling, my darling, my blood curdling darling,

Can you see me, or hear me,
am I still breathing, I think
I am thinking, and maybe I am smiling,

Thought I'd take you for miles,
or walk them endlessly,
but the dirt and six feet is in what you envelope me,

Final letters written without a care,
I see your back, and I am either dead,
or I stare.

I promise I won't let go...
I know there's things at our throat,
and our backs don't have much further to go,

It looks like there's cliffs waiting for us,
I don't think things will be good for us again,
but if you told me infinity was at my back,
I'd press forward to the never coming end

It's kinda like drowning, or having emotions poured into your head,
kinda like hypno glasses spiraling in reverse,
releasing feelings into things we don't comprehend,
basically it hurts.

Tell me it's a dream, like back then,
when
covered in sweat, I realized you were right next to me,
I could sigh,
and not believe, I had relief,
from this life,
just hearing you breathe.

and now I look back, to my greed,
when I couldn't read, how your stars aligned,
to the beauty it was, that we'd even meet,
before a park, before a quiet street,
in front of a beautiful field, with your warmth to feel.

How could it be me,
I know I said thank you,
and even then, I begged you'd never leave,
but these fires started with footsteps that lead to me.

Fingers, are they not rays of sunshine,
or at least so delicate,
your finest lover, if her or his were crushed?
is it not so much more a travesty?

These simple vines, strumming until they're embedded,
beating with a soft but forceful start,
all for the finality of a drop,
that begins where the heart stops.

a goodbye to eyes, an eternal recess from the light,
you **** the chorus in our minds,
hoping that either one of us finds,
you again.