In Love, As in, Alone

by Tyler Bentley 
I will finger-paint your portrait, 
Dip my hand in simple syrup, but not to taste, 
To draw out remnants of your fading features, 
Pierce the canvas with flower stems, 
And lay us both, face-first, 
In juniper grass. 
I want to die there, 
As soft, decomposing flesh, 
As a pile of intersecting bones. 
Let the ants dig my shallow grave, 
Carry me in an army of trillions to their nest, 
Take me as food, 
Let the marrow bloom from the weeds.