A budding writer's collection

Where are we?

Your gift arrived,

The mailman annoyed,

Those errands of daily eating at his insides.

A fleeting smile,

A montage of memories,

You by my side,

The world pushed aside.

Why does your love pour

A gallon in a day,

And leave me begging for a bit more, honey,

Hoping a tiny droplet stays in the drought.

You know it, don't you?

We're falling apart,

The tragedy of our tale's ruin,

Is an anthology that lost its last page.

Tell me, should I hold onto you?

Restrict my vision,

A tunnel that throws away any flaws in your love?

Am I a fool,

To root for the spirit

Of this dying flame

Hoping its last breath will not come to pass,

Not for a long time,

Till wrinkles crinkle around the edges of our eyes?

I wanna stoke this fire,

Eternal flames that reach the skies

But the coals that I pour are not enough,

There's hardly few left and the fire's retreating

Will you make peace with the logs covered in fumes of our ruin,

Is it okay to hope that it'll tug at your heartstrings?