we loved so much
until we were all gods
an extension of everything
bleeding out over seasons
over years that cannot be covered.
the way summer lit up your eyes
in the late afternoon
you were born from gold and
there you'll lay for the last time.
i loved you more than anything.

the trees were greenest the day you left.
i can't speak for you,
sometimes i can't speak at all.

eight floors up, i'm thinking of you again.