a year full of life

you let me wilt away

what do i taste on the lips of death? if i told you it tasted like everything sweet and wonderful in the world [like the way the stains of bleeding berries leave a smile on your face, and the way that that smile - in turn - warms my heart] would you try to stop me? i don't think you understand the weight i hold on the tips of my two shoulders, the strain my bones hold at the weight of your unlived life [all of it, because of me]. if you knew all of this, would you still look at me with that dripping disappointment in your eyes while i look death in the face and smile?

you always used to ask me what i think i'd see if i held the stars i adored in the sky in the two palms of my hands. i always used to answer with the same meaningless lies [they might not have been lies at the time but i later learned that all i could ever do was lie to you], like that i saw a future with me and you [where we were happy and full of unabashed joy, where i held your hands in mine and we watched the clouds pass by, where i was happy just knowing you loved me]. if you asked me that question today [after i've tasted the lips of death and watched your eyes bleed disappointment] i would tell you that i see a grassy hill with a burning sun and off at the very top of that hill i see a small stone that looks torn and eroded but still somehow held onto the eight letters that spelt out my name [as if representing the way i slowly wilted away, representing the way you let me wilt away].