horribly beautiful ✔️

my weeping willow

it was five thirty in the morning,

the switchgrass licked at our ribcages

and the earth reached for our ankles,
and the stars you had sown
into the cuffs of your jeans.

i always wanted a weeping willow like the one you cried under

but our backyard was too small and we never visited it enough.

the summer azure reached for your lips

and tried to pry them open,
in hopes of finding some kind of nectar inside.

like it, i

committed to you since you were better than i was,

and i'll stop believing in you when you stop being real.

i wished we had gone to bed
instead of watching the sun rise

i hated to see the moon disembark from your crescent eyes;

i envied the fact that you reminded me i was alive.

since to you
my words were worthless
i had lost my only purpose.

now the only thing in which i find solace

is that the ground needs someone
to walk upon it

to mean anything at all.