i sit, a cup of tea & milk, underneath the autumn tree

hot in my hands as i question existence between us;

the smell of peppermint and sanded wood –

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it hurts to love you...no other words needed.

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but in the pulse hammering under my skin – a soft yearning

for you to remember the insignificant echo left in my cries;

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flesh vigilantly saccharine between your teeth as I wonder

tears falling – a testament to airways crushing under the words.

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i haunt the meadows and muddy creeks

to write poetry on crumpled, recycled paper

dedicated to your fading memory, …i cannot take the silence

your words pressed against my eardrums, a choir of deceit.

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i’m left insomniac, attempts to understand the anger and hurt and lies

that drove your actions, as you drank countless bottles of jack daniels, gin, and other nameless

i did not judge then, only asked –

can you see through me now?