A chain of leaves,

Willow vines leading up and up,

Grains of salt caught in the creases of my palms,

A crack in the cement,

A wick burns outwards, inventing itself.

In my dreams we say goodbye over and over,

I cradle your face in my palms

though it spreads out infinitely,

catching me

As I lay your eyes, your nose, your cheeks, your smile and the lines in its corners

into the ground

and you tell me

this place

-where you are leaving me-

to you has been

something lovely.

Artwork & Words By Rosie Brand