Cut your image into my memory
Something to comfort me in my misery
Left a box in the garage with some books and tapes and shit
But I don’t think you’ll be around anytime soon
To get it

The bed it feels a little strange
Shy a body and maybe it’s also cause I haven’t washed the sheets
I try not to look around too much
At all the destruction and the fires that you kept setting 
In the streets

I feel like I saw the moon laughing tonight
As I dug a hole for you in the rain softened ground
I know the way you left me wasn’t pretty but I forgot how much it hurt
Now It’s taking me forever
To pull the rocks out of this dirt

In the springtime with some help from the rain and sun
Thoughts of you start to return to the forefront of my brain
Flowers in the yard
Spring up from the mound
I guess even when something dies
Something lives again

Sweet Azalea
Why’d you have to go without even saying goodbye
Staring out this window at what is left of us
Just some flowers in the garden 
And when winter comes
Even they
Will die

Poem is mine. Image is not.