Weathered

These old bones lead me deep into the forest.
I know this tree must become my coffin,
But I hesitate to make the first swing.
The cold wind smacks through my rib cage,
Making my lungs burn and yet

I breathe
And breathe
And breathe

I wander through endless rain,
Apologize to every snail that dies by my feet.
Only the moss that grew me into a home
Could understand the choices I make

But I still breathe
And breathe.

Spring blooms over me with cascading warmth.
I slouch and fall slowly to the ground.
The worms cradle my old bones, and

I breathe.