It's hard to imagine a world without you in it.
The sun still rises. The day is still filled with seconds, minutes.
Should I not have reprieve rather than be sentenced to grieve?
Why don't I have to tell myself to breathe?
The sun still rises. I still **** breath. And, grieve.
There is nothing left but this chiseled granite.
I wish that it were I there decomposing in it, death sublime.
Or perhaps we both could lie there, intertwined
Forever;
Together
Enshrined.
Sep 20, 2021
Sep 20, 2021 at 10:00 AM UTC
It's hard to imagine a world without you in it.
The sun still rises. The day is still filled with seconds, minutes.
Should I not have reprieve rather than be sentenced to grieve?
Why don't I have to tell myself to breathe?
The sun still rises. I still **** breath. And, grieve.
There is nothing left but this chiseled granite.
I wish that it were I there decomposing in it, death sublime.
Or perhaps we both could lie there, intertwined
Forever;
Together
Enshrined.
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