can I lay my head on your tomb

can I speak, will you hear my voice

I’ll speak anyway

not like I have a choice

can I carve my name

into your grave

it’ll be solace when

I’m feral and depraved

why do I ask

you put yourself to bed

you won’t see

because you’re dead

did you get the poems

I sent them to you

on my dirty knees

with a cardboard flu

I wept on them

do you feel the tears

a memento I guess

to those unspent years

I’m better now

I think…

you might like to know

that’s what I think

the time will mold

the rock will split

our bodies will turn

back to shit

but that wasn’t how

I wanted it

I can no longer

sit vainly on your tomb

it’s not for me

I’m through with the doom

I’ll leave your grave

with a full bloom

I was always warm

on the cusp of the mountain

bundled up with you

your haiku