Sometimes I do turn signals in sign language
Then feel a drop in my stomach
Because what we had has been voided
By a disastrous end
Of biblical proportions
At the age of 25 for my birthday
I say in jest
I received a mid life crisis, a nose ring, and my ****** heart returned in a mason jar
And I lost myself
As the words still echo in my head "you can't love someone unless they love themselves"
Sometimes I miss you
But I think that You is in a grave
Skeletal hands folded
Wrapped around another carcass
6 feet under the soil
Accompanied by the bones of who I used to be
That's where the you and I of memory lie
Resting in peace as the worms eat away at our insides
As our bones turn to soil
For the gardens to come