occhiolism - a poetry collection

a withering memory

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sometimes i am brought back to the days
before the world took away what little
innocence you once prospered.
i was in love with your sensitivity; your mind.
you were a flower grown from the ashes
of a cracked, split soil.

you stuck out in the world of grime and dust,
and i sworn to make myself your gardener.
i tried so often to water you,
to love you until the end of days,
but the dry, soulless ground seeped into your roots, clawing away at everything i loved about you. it fought the water with swords and shields
to take control and seize those fragile roots.

it was a battle fought and lost.

i watched with silent despair as the
environment overpowered my
defense of the fragility held within
your roots; your mind; you, as a whole.

a tear fell from my face as i stood and saw
the color and innocence slowly wither
from your petals
and your stem droop with the pressure
of a weary heart.
i hoped for the deep-rooted emotions
that tangled themselves intricately around every molecule of that tear to drip onto you
and replenish you from inevitable collapse,
but you became one with the ashes
as it began to roll down my cheek,
too slow in a world where swiftness was the keeper.

with a gust of wind, you were taken away,
becoming a million specks of dust intertwined
with the billions of others surrounding us,
your sensitivity, your innocence, nothing
but a fleeting image to hold onto;
a memory to savor when reminiscing of what was.

the only memorabilia i had of loving you
was of that tear leaving a glistening streak
on my ghostly skin and a wet splatter
on the split soil below where
you once loved me back within the cracks.

- skrmzz

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