She left me
After a month
Of two or three
Standing by her imaginary grave
Under an imaginary tree
But the shadows were real
And so were her choices that came to be
Oh how the pain bursts
From the hole in my chest
And to what cost?
But my salted hands burn the wounds
Reminding me what's been lost
I would rather see her eyes fade to grey
And with lips as cold as snow
Than to hear her say those deathly words
"I have to go"
Perhaps
I would rather she had died
Because then it meant she didn't choose
Leaving me

behind