trees spring life

i am not dead

despite all those that are

and

despite all those that aren’t

who sometimes see me

pale as the paper i am filling

and they say

he is just a dead tree after all

*

it was the language of love

though no one understood

so they spent years with their mouths busy

and fights unfurling

at socks left on the ground

though that means he is comfortable

to him with her

and though that means he doesn’t care

to her with him

and then the mouths again

harder now

sloppier

trying to suckle the last

bits of bites that

brought them back here

together

but drifting away

*

it is a shame

that after drowning

oneself in the river

because one feels

they do not know oneself

anymore

one still moves like two

dancing and floating

eventually evaporating

to clouds which someone

will point to and say

it is a shame

but i think that looks like

a person i used to know