Determining the Clockwork

Tonight I will bury my lover under a bed of clovers; surfacing the soil with vines and leaves that spread from my hands. And tomorrow I will savor the silence as I taste each moment the sky settles into the horizon, laughing as I groom each flower above your grave. And I know now, love isn’t worth the breaks and marks. So my impatience grew with the wait for sleep to take you - the unclaimed voices seeping through once impenetrable walls. My Dearest, slumber beckons below the shallow gravel