​cherry tree

the sun poured over our bodies,
yours suspended from the cherry tree,
mine trembling, yearning for your love,
a crumpled, blood-stained note of your demise
leaves me in shreds,
apocalypse in my heart, a tombstone in you
awaiting desecration.

grasping the broken chair leg,
I drive it into the earth where you rest,
never reaching you again in life or even in death,
shuddering at your dissonant laughter
echoing through cracked doorways
and walls riddled with holes.

each restless night, a new star emerges,
whispering of a love beyond display,
in a frequency i can’t yet hear; this spiraling cycle
has cast me
into a twilight eclipse,
for Andromeda couldn’t save me
from the blackened constellations dotted on my arms; a pleasant but fleeting effort to reach you in the heavens above.

here lies orion’s belt,
the three sisters guiding me
to place flowers on your grave,
a thought I failed to recall or so you made me believe

my core trembles as I gaze at the horizon,
seeing only branches swaying
and furniture teetering on the cliffsides.