I asked you when we were knee high
to a blade of grass would you look
after me, never to let me go..

I asked you when we were but a breath
of years if you'd always stand by my
side, two peas in a pod you and I.

I asked you when you were a kiss away
would I be your forever, as the rings eloped
on our fingers, we both said yes.

I asked you, I remembered that promise you
gave to be always here to be by myside.
now I'm asking you to relinquish that promise.

I asked you, with a tear falling like snowflakes.
You'll always be here, but now I need to release you.
Tears fell and peace woven like silk blanketed your eyes.

"You made a promise,
*"You stood by it, ill forever embrace you in my dreams.

We're a fragment of what came
before us a
            Mother & Father.

Collecting stones or reason
to sink ourselves before we've
                                                  lived.

Life's a singular breath,
that's painful
                       &
                         harmonious.
A paradox of reason, but I'm still breathing.

My words are
       random clippings,

Sewn on the back of used
                   newspaper adverts.

Ink collected in just understandable verse.

I'd just fixed the echo of
tears that
                grazed within me.

Then coalescing before me,
                            you smiled,
                                it was a hit & run.
Thrown back in ruination
as my emotions bled.

You never even checked,
you just proceeded,
and I again
                  was a broken seashell.

Thinking our love was
a message on a
              paper airplane.

Me and you the only
                       passengers.

But then you threw a match,
                   Ash flew in the breeze.
        I was falling and you never caught me.

You left a post-it note
                             saying

"Its a life of empty pillows,

But I didn't cry till I noticed
       you'd taken a knife to
      the picture above our bed.
        
Separating us in still form,
                  a fabric of reflection
                      that cant be re-sewn.

I'm a sanitary towel
      soaking up unconceived
                                      wording.

You bleed them heavily,
                   the smell of copper
                                      syllables

Haemorrhaging upon me
        saturating deeply I'm
                                        used.

Throw away like it wasn't
         personal,  but I'm now a sentence
                                           completed.