You're the equivalent of a rainstorm
without the clouds
constantly falling on him
when he least expects it.
Drowning out his sorrows with empty love.
Just like you when you came from mountains with blood spilling from your mouth,
tying tree branches around your
nearly broken fingers as if they were
strands of his ***** hair
that he hasn't washed since last week 
I bet.
What's the point of cleaning up for a
funeral when no one will pay 
attention to you unless you're the
one about to be buried in the ground.
Pounding on everyone's chests hoping their breath together will pull 
out one last heart beat,
or one last sigh that would break
the silence and send the world
tumbling into a fit of volcanic ash.
Kind of like the way he wished
he swallowed your words whole
and could puke them up onto
a white wall to rid
himself of the burden of
keeping secrets.
But now I guess I'll walk around
aimlessly until I can find
something to own, not the place.
Just something to brand my name
on.
Maybe this time without collapsing into
a pile of dust
and screaming "Mother Earth save me"
because i am the earth.
Just burnt and unholy.
T.L