Leaves would descend as her journey perished.
Should not leaves fall in Autumn?
It was only June,
the oak next to me still holding its abundant shape.
Chlorophyll drained like an open wound.
I began to weaken.
A soul so youthful…now gone.
Branches remained bleak,
for weeks they could not revive me,
even an ocean would not suffice.
As the sun shimmered over the knoll that enchanted morning,
men unearthed the dull prairie beneath me.
Her delicate frame tickled my once thirsty roots.
Feeling the force to prevail dejection,
a soul was provoking my survival.
Discovering an urgency to live,
the cold gravestone giving me a pulse.
Casting her a shade,
providing protection from the burning solar.
I can live for her.
A towering Oak tree has been resurrected
by a once youthful soul…now gone.
The release one is looking for
while fumbling franticly
like life depended on it
literally, life depending on it
a razor slicing into naked flesh
separating into two
she had a hard time believing it
having contemplated the blood that flows
many times before
it was a distant thought
lips forming a smile
reminders of the pain
I think I will be happier here
my purpose only being to suffer
I can only sit back to watch
watch the memories fade
into something that is no longer a past
just a distant memory
that holds no meaning
that many will soon forget
and look past
no longer here
I cant worry
I am where I should be
blood spilling down
trying to feel the release
still feeling pain
then one I've never felt until now:
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