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.
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