You were at your prettiest in the morning a strict bun, frog eyes and uncolored, thin lips
girded for a day where there was no room to give fucks for anything but life and I would give anything to squeeze your extra pounds in the wrong places to have your unpainted fingers thread between mine to run my trembling hands along the feet the crows left by your eyes
but your face is covered in tubes my eyes are blinded by pain and all I can hope is that the clean smell will some day be replaced by the pines
Save a space for my heart in that silk-lined box because I don’t know how long I will have to walk alone
