Smoke

I hope there isn't only
silence
that sips up
sound
after,
since today it seems certain
that even
love can break
and that devotion
doesn't promise eternity
no matter who you pray to.
There is only bones
and skin
and air
and a loneliness
that takes its place
when it is done.
Winter is gone
but its chill is sat on my shoulders
with its hands around my neck
and it is whispering
'everything dies'
into my ear
and I will continue to love you
even knowing what I do
and we'll make a home
inside of it
until we are smoke.