I cannot
Bow near enough
To kiss your frozen lips,
Without welcoming myself
To join you,
For tears have gleamed my years,
In outpouring sunlight
For too long.
As I bury thee
Beneath the sea, of my thorns,
You can find puddles away from our home
To cleanse the soil from your form.
Drinking the nothingness
Of two storms, un-matching.
Wielding frost
To lay upon my heart.
There are words left unsaid,
Broken down into bread,
For I wish to see your eyes awake,
As though this were but a passing malady.
I wish to see you face the sun,
Without facing away.
I wish to see you bathe yourself
In something warmer than grief.
