elise.writer

You gave him the clouds, the sunsets, the stars.

You gave him your 3am wishes on mars.

You gave him 13 handwritten diary entries,

You gave him enough pen ink for centuries.

He gave you a rose, the 26th on December.

crisp autumn air, whispers bear

hill crests only we know where leaves are so

amber and the sky is so golden.

autumn leaves, they
fall to the pine-bathed
soil, and my heart falls
with them, and I think it's burning
too, burning too, for all it takes
is one glance into your
amber eyes, september sight, and
you've got my

I lay them in a mandala, the shards of glass

I pull from my back, one by one.  I let them

scar over, and I surround the mandala

in peonies, because the pain was not for nothing