I'm Leaving More Than Roses Now

And when the world came crashing down there was a ringing in my ears 
but it didn’t sound piercing didn’t sound like the humming of the magnets in my phone 
no it was deafening with its aura of silence that reminded me of you. 
You became like the tree in the park by my house 
the one with roots sprawled out and tripping over themselves. 
Everytime I think I’ve found a new set of roots I follow them on tiptoes 
but they always seem to lead right back to your decaying bark. 
Somehow even scratches on paper turn into your name even though I swear I didn’t write that 
who wrote that who wrote that I did not just etch your letters onto my skin who wrote that? 
I hold flowers in my free time and talk to them instead of you 
but I guess I’m still hoping one day I’ll go to the garden and find you growing 
between a raspberry bush and a patch of wildflowers. 
Maybe I should melt into clouds so I can fall onto soil as rain 
and sink six feet underground and see you again. 
Or no, maybe I should go back to the day it was snowing and tell you to stay inside, 
don't drive in this weather, don't drive when you're like this please don't drive. 
I will eat clocks until I am time itself and can return to the foyer and change your mind. 
There is still blood in my lungs after your absence had punctured the beating muscle 
resting between a boned cage and layers of tendons.