I wish I could bleach the scenery
freeing us
we would live in an undressed painting
surely we could resist the whiteness of snow  
and the sipping of body heat 
but now I feel like a fist of soil
grime dissolves 
a few rubbles arise from mud 
what should I do with what’s left?

Navigated bays 
I’ve found a warm docking there
home is far away, I creak  
leaves tinged with yellow 
struggling breathless against the scorn of younger buds
greener charming gems 

since I know you 
I’ll be bent over you until the very last
rekindling what’s left 
you should feel on your skin 
how desperate I keep blowing these embers 
cause every moment my absent gaze is not coddling you
you blend with a pale rustling of the woods 

a scribble left on a wall 
still screams my blame 
reminds me how rooted, in pain are you