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Montana II
2021-06-23


	
**


I'm so afraid.
I'm afraid
that I'm tying everything I am to you,
and one day you'll leave me,
and it'll rip me apart
like a misplaced amniotic band
rips apart a fetus.

The birds sing bittersweet melody
in their perches in the trees
segregating every cabin.
I close my eyes
and I'm in the Town again,
healing from Parthena's rage,
wondering where Eris' godsend
went,
and you, despondent
in your tiny house, self-tranquilized,
hoping eventually I'll take a hint.

Though these roses in the chill blush harder,
a shred of human form!
guided by defying the golden
that tries
to sear
my eyes.

But in this body I cannot fly,
cannot breathe,
cannot perceive
with open eyes
your presence at my side.
Choking on cotton tree dust,
splintered wood from dog freakout,
campfire smoke,
rotted grout.

I don't know how long
we can go on
like this.
Months without your kiss,
weeks without your touch,
eternities where I convince myself
I've somehow lost your love.

Oh, heaven above,
if you have any mercy,
send me an angel.


	
**


CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander