I let you live in my bones
but you still won't take me home
and I sit here waiting for you,
plucking the petals from these
roses you left me with,
until my fingers are more blood
than skin and still you still tell me
it's not enough.

I built you into my skeleton,
laced you into my blood,
braided you into my very
existence, and you still
let me wither in the garden
of all your forgotten thoughts
and the only thing I've ever asked
of you is for you to love me
even half as much as I have loved you.