its coffin

there is nothing alluring

beneath the surface

yet there is this sentence

there is its existence

there is yours

and every so often

it awakes from its coffin

and sneaks into mine

it just lies there

same as it did in its own

but lonely loves (my) company

so here we lie

in comfortable silence

irony at its finest

killing you with kindness

silent

so silent

without a license i still drive you

to the cliff

you've reached it before

all on your own

but then you held the wheel

you could grip it and feel

the motions

then you were grounded

now uprooted 

like a tree

dead

on its side

until the outside

moved your wooden hide

and carved you into mine

i lie in it often

your body

the coffin

its existence

gone in an instant

yet there is this sentence

the surface is endless

who needs the contents?

- afm