Jun 28, 2018
prove
It's not breaking off the tooth, it's the living
with the exposed root. You are gone. You are
gone. I know that the rain is still falling,
that the earth is still sublime, that the star
I named you for is still out there, somewhere.
It's this morbid time, time on my hands, time
to think that I can drink away despair,
fuck away all this pain. Time for sublime
errors in judgment. Pain will be the death
of me but what does pain prove? They still move:
the rain, the earth, the stars, all that must part
must part. I held you. You took your last breath.
You are gone. Let this long sober pain prove
that I love you, little blessing, dear heart ---
