Love Me Not

I am so tired.

I just want to lay here and wither

to become one again with, to disappear

back into the familiar hearth.

She is my home.

The cool clay may crush

me, and I will disintegrate. But,

at least my petals will not lure false suitors

who pick, discard, admire, and murder

fields of flowers.

At least the soil

will be a pact firm, as if a love

tucked me into sleep, and I can rest knowing

this forever embrace really won’t

ever leave me.