On My Own

My skin prickles, tickled by scratchy straw
digging into my hot flesh.
Your arm rests across my stomach,
fingers tapping a lazy tattoo
under the hazy blue
petrol sky.

I can feel the heat, burning deep.
Scorching my body and
branding me with your mark.
Sun searing my flesh
as a bird wheels high above
spreading her wings, free.
Watching me
joined to you
as I don’t want to be.

The wheat wafts gently in the ill wind,
rustling like dead leaves, whispering
words of warning to me.
I can sense the portents;
your intent
was never to stay.
“I need to go,” you inevitably say.

Dark clouds obscure the sun
and a cold wind chills me,
reminding me
I am alone,
cast aside amidst the dead things
while all that remains of you
seeps down my thighs.
Our love dies
As the first spats of rain begin to fall,
washing me away
into a place I deserve to be.