Haplessly trudging under weight
Across red clay bleeding in the rain;
Numb in warmth, stomach overfull,
Eyes shot in the glowing of the screen.
Disparaging the merits of my love,
Claiming happiness yours to withhold;
Soul too small, good not good enough,
Smile and laughter spent and cast to earth.
Shivering quickly between halls,
Taking shelter from November rain;
The wind that cast its leaves back to the walk,
Evergreen dancing in the cold.
The shared class and the smirking over trays,
Razor wit cascading over mugs.
Mistletoe haunts each barren oak,
Red clay dries to old veins on the walk.
Increasing terseness in your rapid text
Until silence reigned upon my head.
Torn asunder by a blade of mute,
False god but to leap and leave to die.
My skull become your ever azure sky,
My bones become the mountains that you love,
My lips a story that you ceased to tell,
my blood the clay you drink your coffee from.