Feel it break.
The rain is burning your skin now.
Let it burn.
You are given one promise at birth.
A death specific to you,
Laid away, antique wedding dress in the attic.
Documents found once they’re gone
Speaking to you in a way they never did.
Now, these pieces are yours to hold.
Why not hold them in the stinging rain
As the grass tells you each blade is for you?
We burn so briefly
But we have the power to make it feel like eternity.