Dried petals

#44

I don't ask of
you, to place
the stars in my
hands, nor do
I want you to
promise me a
love as deep
as the sea.
instead, I want
you to hold my
quivering body
against yours,
when the lonely
nights of
November get
colder and my
words refuse
to warm me
up.
I want you to
remind me how
to breathe, when
the air can't
caress my lungs,
and I become a
prisoner in my
own ribcage.
I want you to
kiss me
senseless,
when my
demons steal
my voice away,
and the
nonsensical
excuses are
about to drip
from my bottom
lip.
I want you to
take me out to
dance under the
rain, when I
can't write down
my thoughts
because I ran out
of ink.
but most of all
when the love
we built begins
falling like
automne leaves,
I want you to
stay.