This breathe and these lungs
Have been used to preach subjects I fully can't understand
Like existence, cats, and why yesterday feels like today
So I told a story about you
It reminded me of your nails
And the memories they held
Each time I try to write about you
my arthritis flares up
My lungs cringe
And my mind turns static
They say there are 5 steps of grieving
What about the 6th step?
The times where your body stops working
They never mentioned the part
Where you find her spirit in everything
The clouds began to shine your radiance
The wind smells like you
Tomorrow feels almost like home
We will never get the day you left back
I have been spending each moment
Elaborately searching for you everywhere
And I have found
You never left
My heart still speaks of your beauty
My laughter a sliver
These eyes glistening
To show the elation
You exhaled into my life
So don't let this be a poem about you
I am still unsure what that would look like
But for now, I wanted to say
I love you

Since when did darkness
Become my only light

Sometimes beneath close eyelids
I quest to bring you back
As if you were driftwood floating
Downstream on your back.
I dip my hands beneath the veil
And dry away the death
And from my parting, weeping lips
I give you back your breath-
Just like the rising sunset burning
In the summer sky
Paints and saints the mountaintops
And casts their colors bright.



Unrhymed Notes:

Sometimes I dream I can bring you back
Just as simply as dipping my hands into the water
To retrieve a floating piece of driftwood;
Dry the death from your skin
And breath life back into you
The way the sunrise reanimates
The Dark Mountains
Each and every day.

I see your Ocean eyes open
Embrace you like I'm trying to
Fold you into my skin
Where I can keep you always
And feel your summer peach warm flesh
Tangible against my permafrost fingers.

If the dead could talk
Nothing profound would leave your lips
They'd only quirk into a Cheshire smile
And you'd tell me to let go
Relinquish
Move along and stop standing still
Life is for the Living
Death is for the dead
And dreams are for the foolish.

"You *******."

The last time we kissed
I broke out in hives
from the honey on her breath
and the sting of her lies.
I swear, I'd die a thousand deaths
if she were the queen of my hive.