WHEAT.

I kicked you,
like an old habit that
I never knew,
that I never wanted to leave.
I abandoned you; you and I.
Goodbye.
You God,
you rightful,
selfish King.
I know you had to,
but I cry when I think of you.
Aches.
Body entombed by memories
of places
and rooms and thoughts
that only you would have received.
Think of me?
Don't make me lay by my pillow-side
every night,
and dread everything I write.
Read between the lines.
Goodbye, Leonardo,
soul of my life, goodbye.