While dirt piled beneath my nails I clawed at your grave all night,
breaking my back until your blackened and dismantling coffin was in sight.
The weeds circling your tomb stone danced without appearing mundane,
as the freezing wind called to you, howling out your name.
I pried open your wooden door that had been etched with two dates,
and I knew that what had happened to you would soon be both our fates.
I thought back to the day when I found out you took your life,
and with hopes of mimicking you in sorrow, I keep a gun to my side.
Slowly I crawled in next to you, with just enough room for two,
and I looked up beyond the trees and saw a sky painted dark blue.
And in this moment at last, I felt completed by your side,
then I shut the door, pulled the trigger, and never said goodbye.
