Where can I go,

To escape the perfection,

The infection you left behind?

To leave you behind at last,

Where you belong,

In the past, in your tomb.

What will cover it up?

The stank of rose water,

The ode you wore around your neck,

That clung to everything you touched,

Even what was mine,

Like the heart you stole and shattered.

Will fire erase it,

Like your photos.

And verses.

Will tears collect,

Become the river and sea,

Unable to be crossed again,

Without the earth that claimed you,

That I forced on you,

When end came crushing down.

Will your ashes be blown away,

My moans and screams of pain,

Swept away finally,

In to freeing breeze.

How long will it take,

In the end,

To make you leave?

Finally let me be,

To take the perfume

And disease that was love,

To return to your grave.

How long will I lay here,

Strapped to this bed,

In this prison,

With you sitting on top of me.

Can I pile on the dirt at last,

The only thing you have earned.

Bury your memory

Presence at last,

To put 6 feet between us permanently.

When will I be able to escape,

To not be haunted anymore

By what wasn’t,

So I can find,

What is.