when i die
cremate my remains
crush up the
big bits of bone
and mix me in
with a solution
of ink
and spread me
across the page
rewrite each
of my odes
to my love
let my every drop
flow through the
wildflowers dancing
in her bottomless
brown eyes
use me up
in a final
declaration of love
so that i can be
exactly the same
in death
as i was in life

hers

that’s what
she means to me
in a million
different ways
and i am likely
the worst of all
the would be poets
because no matter
how hard i try
the words needed
to describe her
escape my fevered grasp