The Pull

never used the room we had
    to grow sunflowers
instead, it rained
    drenching your curls

flattening my face

green filled the space
     but yellow never surfaced
lost in tall grass, i cried
     you rode the leaves into sky

i waited, below

winter came, all was barren
     your breath chilled my bones
i sucked in your air
     like when you vacuumed

like a madman

yet crumbs, hair, lint, and dirt

     remained

i lay on black carpet
     with a blue heart
you stare with black eyes
     whirlwind of dust drags me
all the way back to you
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Trapped

I am here
in wind
I am gone
among leaves
and dirt,
I am buried
I am earth.

I search,
I dig
with dull shovels
for my curly
brown hair,
swallowed
by the mud
of rainy days.

I dig
and hit bone,
hit flesh,
hit earth,
but never find
arms
to pull.