An afterlife with you.

October is freely bleeding
from our veins,
with untamed roots
and rhubarb leaves.

I let you into the
compromised parts of me -
the cracks in my sanity,
cobwebs reminiscent
of the control once held,
and yet, you stayed,
brushing aside the
shadows of death
clinging to my skin.

You made sure I would
not be forgotten in this
land, planting aster
flowers wherever I walked,
the heels of my feet
blooming stories of
revival.

We were both running
from ourselves;
refusing to look at
reflections,
unwilling to face the
horrors of the past.

Then, you took my
hand and kissed the fear
of winter from it.
I felt both a sadness
in the human touch,
and a yearning to become
more than haunted.

Eventually, I'll surrender;
we can't stay in the cursed
land of our fathers,
but maybe we'll settle
where there's no dust,
where earthly boundaries
won't limit us,
where we'll be immortal.