Burnt bones in the

prairie heat,

my skin regrew

rippled with scars from

all your best smiles.

The nights ride,

and they move,

and then they die.

They die the cold death of lost dreams,

and my mouth tastes of the loss and grief

and memories of pain I never knew.

My burnt tongue licks static air,

searching for you and all of your

sweet

being.

Never to be found,

again,

but never is a long time to

live with it.