Heavy Things Book of Poems

She slowly grew on him, surrounding his body with brown mold and green moss.
He can’t escape her detachment, her selfless embrace. Her love is only needed from one time to another, like one plant from another, growing and then dying.

And what was that he hoped for but could never find while he was alive?
Some type of love with attachment?

She broke him moistly and slowly, piece by piece, while his body sunk deeper into her wet body as the sun and rain touched him.

Right before he died he heard the voice of her, “Shhh, my child, who thinks so highly of himself.” “You come into me, and I will use you as you are needed! Broken, back into my body, back under my streams of water, back  into the cold, soft soil, back where you were born. You will be used as food for my small creatures. You will be used to fertilize the gardens of my skin.

The tulips in autumn, the dandelions in spring, they all wait to rise and see the rays of the sun just as you did.”