Part of me buried you today.

Part of me has already dug up your grave,

digging cold fingers into the mud so soft,

and scraped the headstone’s lies off.

As the rain pours down on your coffin,

I know this was never what you wanted,

but I stand in this black dress, soaked,

and next to your grave, I am alone.

I walk home under green-gray skies—  

the sun vanished like the life in your eyes.

It seems today even the clouds in the sky know

that your death is killing me slow.

Now I beg you to haunt me,

I beg you to wander my halls aimlessly

and fill the dead silence you left me in.

The quiet traces the house like blood under skin.

You are stuck between the pages of reality, love,

and I could never stay by your side for long enough.

In the last act of this tragedy, the world is empty,

and I sit alone in the center of it in your vacancy.