Dehydrated
Petals
Pressed lovingly to your lips
You're a book of poems
Every bit of ink,
runs on your skin.
You breathe rhythm
when rhythm is absent.
Your words love
with abandon,
It is this that I miss.
I read your eyes,
the last line
and the piece still doesn't fit.
What's left is to cast your
memory into the kindled fire,
watching your pages
Yellow
and crumple into one another
Erasing the history of us,
Drowning in ash-
the grime of the earth,
a tombstone for all that is left
Unwritten.