it was barely a monday-
i had folded her skin under mine,
and held the soft whisper of her heart
like an echo in my chest cavity.
she had lost her words.
and on wednesday-
her lungs were filled with water
from all her tears she’d swallowed
as my lips pushed my breath
into her blood.
she was decaying.
and the air around us changed
from winter to autumn,
as the blue broke down into a shade of brown
which couldn’t gather it’s sanity long enough
to remember to live.
she’d fractured by saturday-
beside this broken ocean that seeks redemption
for each time it betrayed gravity
to lay naked next to Luna,
by beating it’s body against mine
and holding on
until we were both losing our bones
under the long weight
of a lover slipping from the memory.
i am most human in her death.