for O.W. (and the Young&Beautiful)

A droplet clashes on the tip of my tongue
your essence fills me up
It clouds my mind
and drowns my lungs
It sizzles like fire
and hums like thunder storms on rainy November nights
From below withered plants
extend their broken branches
Strength found anew in the fantastic sorcery
that you project into my night skies
They climb up my limbs
tangle their wooden fingers around my wrists
Tie me to Us
From above feathers rain
White, Careless
but with the weight of broken stones
I bury them into the cracked, dry earth
Hope is not planted
It is grown
(If this is what will pull me under
I wish my last breath to be filled with you
I wish my heart’s last beat to drum for you
I’d wish for it all
– if it only ever meant to be with you)