Our once well-folded love
Is now crumpled origami
A mutilated paper swam
No longer able to swim
We are spilled beer
Once alcoholics of togetherness
We have become broken champagne glasses
Toasting to a pile of shattered glass
Charred, deformed clouds
Descend on muddy, rain-drenched streets
With rumbling thunderstorms
And I can’t help but think of him
Sometimes fresh fruit
Withers and has no seeds
Unrefrigerated, rotting corpses
Black with decay and bitter to the taste
Our road together migrates south
Like birds do in winter
Everywhere, stop signs and one-way signs
Hug the sides of the faded asphalt
I see white, wooden crosses on the roadside
And know what this means
