Springtime lingering on my lips
/
and here i am
faced with another spring day
where you are still not here
i kneel beside your little grave
and trace the few blades of grass
that have dared to grow around you
this ache from where you are
and where you should be
pokes me deeply in the ribs
and i have to rearrange how i'm sitting
i breathe into the sound of baby birds
calling for their mother
and i am reminded that you never will
i search for traces of you in the bright march sky
but you are nowhere to be found
so i press my love into your rose-colored marble
and my lips burn softly
against the stone that cries your name
How does your grief change with the seasons?