I've lost track of time
sleeping with you
under the banyan tree.
Is it morning? Night?
I do not know.
Flowers grow
from my eyes
and i can't see you
sitting beside me.
But I know you're still there.
A hundred years you've laid with me
And a thousand more
you will lie.
I know your cold eyes
look at me with endless warmth.
I know your hand
is reaching out to me
with a lavender in each knuckle.
I know you were wronged, love,
by the gods and their godless children
who told us we were loving wrong.
Close your eyes.
In your blanket of moss
roof of leaves,
bed of roots,
the worms will kiss your wounds
and close them with mushroom bandages,
while the beetles sing you to sleep.
Let them rot in their stone tombs,
You and I, we will rest here
with our tangled bones
and our necklaces of rope,
Until we become the soil.
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