This Mourning.

Falling through space
Tears like ribbons fraying at the ends.
No end in sight
Just nausea
and chattering teeth.

Dreams built up high into the sky
Remembering they are
actually made of sand
as they disintegrate
piece by piece and bit by bit into the sea.

I am unsure what will be left of me.
What has been made up of him or i or
him and i

simply shaken to the core.

Volcanic rumblings.
Ancient hot seed
kernal of fire.

Desire to be stripped down to fit through the
secret miniature doors being opened and closed in my soul
revealing dreams of spilled blood.. of veins cut the wrong way.

The soil is barren, the land gone fallow.
Want to shove my fingers in it deep and
grab at the heart of the earth.
Dig holes and fill them with ever blooming
plants.

Want to fill all the pots as evidence of my presence.
Want to remember her beauty.
Want to look back at the ribbons blowing in the wind.