"our story has no end"
because I knew even the dead carried scars.
I would have loved you even if the heart of the world wasn't in your bones.
I knew what it was to
deny the undeniable parts of yourself.
I don't think I could ever do that with you, even if I tried.
Even if I played pretend, I would always be reminded
when my fingers brushed my palm or
when the grass tickled my face.
I would still dream of a moonlit field
and the antlers of a stag.
Its blood splashed across the snow, a crimson stain.