a deep rest

the creak of your soft breath on the floorboards
one deep exhale of empty lungs, as long as december sunlight.

your love slapping the rafters. almost purely memory, as i am carried along by the wind into the ocean.

a soft hum of tension through painted speakers
was it something i said?
was it me all along?
am i the reason the two of us are dying?

my questions ring like pots and pans through an empty house.
easily the most frustrating cupboard to organize, at the risk of bruising.

returning to the house, of course.
a dark red bungalow on a lake.
something for a very small family.
with blood surging through the pipes as your name echoes through the basement.

you had been away for so long,
i couldn’t recognize you anymore.
in the warm sun on a cold day
there was no spark.

the flame never died.
the damn house burned down in a couple of hours,
the smoke blending into the thick overcast
above your halo,
or your horns.

regardless of the blackened beams,
i’m sure you could maintain your warmth in the ashes
my hands were always so cold,
i should’ve burned the damn thing down myself.
but i was driving home when i got the news.

i was locked up in a car! how ironic.
going from snowflake to snowflake
in less than
half a second.
less than
quarter a second.

the ash would blow up into the sky,
burning snowflakes in hellfire.

to warm up the air, and evaporate my final tears.