I thought we'd share a form of science and sincerity.
In time and in pursuit, we'd excavate ourselves,
sever roots, and hold each other closely.
I waited to hear the rustles of your slow approach,
but you had seen other holes in the hedge.
You found a path made richer by you and your way.
I could support the shared weight of our separation,
but eventual tolls were taken on me.
So soon I was too crooked to dare a retreat.

I took to new roots just to rest and be well.
Blooming and churning a stolen despair,
I bid all was well and lowered the shade.
Way had been given to all things in black
and all things so shriven by every and none.
Their voices were loud and very distinct.

I thought we'd share this place I've borrowed for the year,
but I've seen all your reasons and I can't help but think
that I'm just not healthy enough right now.
I waited for some incarnation of you, your familiar cozy,
something that made me think of the better days.
Yet since, there has only been bubbling lava below.

I've learned how to climb but my limbs are so tortured.
If I can't stop to rest, perhaps I'll release,
and my grip will allow me to sleep for a while.
And with the swell that will follow I'll validate self,
actualize here, and demand a reprieve
from the world that has clearly agonized me.

I'm hardly ever bleeding.