Straight line, barricade on a path your eyes create with enough to freeze for, with blankets of flesh becoming raw before the moment of your death. Place love to the skies, hold that smile, cover your cries with the curtain around my form. In love, without being born, - because God was a smile too many to have, within grains of plenty. Soil stretches, along with these arms to hold you, while upon your leaves, drops infinite dew. Take to flight, far from me, out of sight. Curve, those clouds. Take tears apart from the storms, with winter never being born. I trapped you, embraced you in a heart that could not depart with those dewed leaves against you. I filled you, carved you out of what discarded you that I might undo you.