If I was once the tallest mountain your love was the wind that eroded me to nothing

I thought I could drink you away but I had to stop being so drunk on you first

I’ve kept my eyes closed most of these past eighteen years because I find it just as dark

I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back

I would write a sweet poem and title it with your name if I loved you at all

I wish you had told me that on the good days kissing you would make me think that I knew what happiness was and on the bad days

I see no joyous rebirth in spring for autumn will bring another death I see no joyous rebirth

So much time passes without feeling a single thing that I think I would give anything