Ode on Love and Death

My love, my one and only,

A cherub in the eyes of man

She is so small, her bones withering 

To the touch, frail ribs poke against the skin

In a battle of flesh and bone.


Pale skin like tissue paper, peeling off when she’s touched.

At night she lays asleep, brow tightened and angry

So much anger in a tiny body 

Remarkable bursts of fire in such a frail package

When I come around she grins and holds me

Long lashes tickling my cheeks

Bony hands caressing my back

Her lips part and brows furrow

Asking me where that bruise came from


The bullies, the names, the bruises,

They don’t hurt me anymore

I'll take all of them for her.

No one makes fun of my girl.


It smells like warmth and flowers as I hold her

We cling to each other and never let go

Fingernails cracked from gripping so tight

A forbidden romance between a girl and a girl

No one can see but us


The love that I feel is deep-rooted

It's primal and strong

I can't imagine myself alone

In a world without her


Times are great, really great

But they are bad too, really bad

She bleeds a lot, she hurts a lot

She weeps and wastes away from the hunger

She’s sick and tiny and weak

She’s a frozen magnolia in winter.


But even so, is it selfish to say that if she were dying

I would want to hold her

I would want to smell the flowers in her hair, 

Feel the warmth from her heart

And kiss her rosy cheeks, softly stroke her curls 

As she slips away.


Her hand gets cold and I’m still so in love with her.

Her body lays limp in my arms, her eyes lost their spark

Folds of fabric intertwine with her hair

A white dress on white skin

She’s dead.


I'm still so in love with her.


My love, my one and only,

A cherub in the eyes of man.


This poem is about: 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741