Bugs crawling,
I felt for sure you would hold steadfast.
This cold, cold Earth holds no memories.
A worm, a maggot, a beetle. None can match your shyness.
I feel myself becoming one of the lowly.
My hands are trembling like my heart when I'm around you.
I can not die, it is not my time to become one with Her.
Why can't I open my mouth? I have the urge, but no tenacity.
That is my demise.
Dirty hands bury me in dirt until I become what crawls in my head. The soil forgives easily and offers second chances.
I've lost you.
To the earth, to the stars...
to everything.
