When you depart every spring,
I wander among liminal wastelands— 
upsetting myself with the sight of an empty hand.

When you return every winter,
you wonder why I linger.
Devotion is the most romantic thing a human can offer.

You protest my prayers, but
I plead to be more than altar and offering.
Restore me back into your ribcage.

You promised pathways to paradise, but 
trap me in a cycle of proving my worth.
I am your long-term curse.

They gift me a thorn-less rose and
ask me if I have ever known loss.
Like Lilith, I relate to loss more than anything else.

Because all eyes condemned Eve, 
men are allowed to forget their vows.
Despite this, I stay.

I stay until no longer allowed.

Featured art: Unknown