Sometimes I wonder,
The times we would've been together.
I picture you and I,
On Sundays by the beach in the cold weather.
I imagine us,
Stargazing at night with me in your arms tighter.
But I waited and waited.
Every inch of every hour,
On steps to your front door,
In portraits I drew of you,
On benches we sat in parks,
At classes we used to have,
Through wretchedly rainy days,
Under my blankets late at night,
In my sleepless nights of dreams,
Right to the places you've sang to me,
Left to the days you were still with me.
But you left.
You were gone.
You were never coming back.
Because I watch you lay there,
With your hands so still,
buried underground.
To death