I had a sudden urge to summit the forest

to plant my legs deeply 

onto a stump of dead tree

which lets me see 

no more than an extra foot of sky 

than I already can.

I had a sudden urge 

to take that plaque

The one you shaped 

that I've tried to hold back

And hammer it 

abandon it

to that cemetery of trees

And let you be. 

Let the rain begin to stain it

let the rust begin to frame it

let it finally breathe the oxygen 

that you were denied

because keeping it at my bedside

won't stop this from turning to dust

eventually

and I think I need to let you go

a little more

because keeping you tucked

up inside my kitchen drawer

after sobbing on the living room floor

doesn't ever really close the door of a heart

or open a window

or let anything in, fresh

and I miss the breeze.

I remind myself

that doors can always be reopened, if only slightly

and old tree stumps can be revisited, and quite rightly

and conversations can always ensue at 6am

after dreaming of you

But I need to lay you down

a little more, now

while the future remains so unsure

and, while my heart remains unsecured

Laying you to rest 

in my head

in my chest

is like taking apart a garden

and picking each flower 

to be pressed

gently

between the sheets of my favourite books

between the pages of the story 

of Us