Dirt, Swallow Me

I shall lie on the dirt; perhaps it can bring me closer to you. 

Can't the ground swallow me? Please, mustn't I rot too?

For the blessing that is called living now feels like a curse,

And I am left behind, with nothing but a damned verse

That I shall write on the very moment you lie and decay

On the wood that you were to use on a summer's day.

I am not afraid of dying, it's far worse for those left behind.

So why must you be cruel and leave me with a bare mind

That craves the false hope that you are breathing and living

And loving me with the warmth of your now cold, dead body?

The stone holds the name that my mouth will utterly worship

As I am left, forsaken to awaken the dawn of immense hardship.

So I lay, hoping to become one with the soil and hold your body for eternity.

And for that, I shall lie on the ground, hoping that it can swallow me whole.