she waters her pulse almost

as softly as it grew

wilting under bed sheets

now stale from the 

absence of companionship

i wish to water her.

her sorrow seeping through soil walls

now soiled walls

watering frames of normality

i sit beside tainted barriers

her tears oozing through me

they taste like buttercream

i deliver breakfast to her door

a coffee, a muffin, and an orange

for I can’t cook without her

her skin like scorched earth

i wish to water her.

for when the vase that once cradled her shattered

she danced through the shards with callused feet

she is a field of wildflowers

untethered

unchained

i wish to water her.

though how does one begin to water

a wetland?