Sunday Mourning

my infatuation turned to obsession and soon it became too much just to breathe without him. and the depression leaked from my face usually on a sunday morning. each new month brought a new mourning. my eyes got heavier with the tired words he soon wore thin. i was nothing to anyone but the wind that ripped through me in his absence. would skip a meal in hopes to blow away someday. i skipped too many and turned into a ghost too afraid to step back into the light. so i walked the streets at night hoping to find some warmth to stop the quivering in my heart. he was the only one who knew the way. i tried to make him stay i’d pray late at night to the god i didn’t trust. but somewhere in-between, i turned into a robot and all my tears turned me to rust. my iron body laid on the beach and he told me we were made of star dust and honey. but he wanted to go swimming, and i couldn’t get wet and he was gone before the sunset.