The Digger

You know, in the end,
I'm just a drawing made
with pen on paper,
bound to fade in the rain.

Or, perhaps, to fade in the teardrops
you always try to hide
like cursed treasures
buried in the darkness of your sleep.

I’m a drawing of someone digging.
I never knew what I was digging into,
but I always imagine myself
shovelling deeper and deeper into the darkness,

into a place where I can catch your falling tears.