I yearn to feel your tree bark arms
the moss settling in-between
your ribs, puddles of
rain water gathering
above your collarbones
I wonder if you smell
like dogwood
or lilacs
or overgrown grass

the wrinkles on the backs of my hands
are starting to look like
roadmaps all pointing
to you, even though
I don't know where "you"
is
somewhere drying up
underneath the sand
brittle bones
and cactus hearts

I have mustered through
futile attempts at growing
a garden with someone else
the plants never bloom
or die with the first
breathe they take
But I have
cleared out this space
in my backyard
for you
It may just be an empty graveyard
overflowing with dirt
and ghosts that
haunt me
when I am weak
but it is for you
and me
so we can
grow