DECAY

I lay here and watch you

sleep in soft destruction,

pretending that the rhythym of raindrops

are your fluttering heartbeat.

your lips are my favourite colour of cold

but i've been missing your voice

ever since silence took the place of

everything we were afraid to say.

I say it now

with the foxes as my witness

and your stillness as my answer:

not even the grip of death

can pull me away from your side.

here i will stay,

loyal as the hounds at my heels

and the wolves at the door.

until the shades of my decay

match the blossoms on your face.