This water used to be cathartic

He learned how to use a semicolon,
With the clumsy hands of a hopeless romantic,
Or maybe they were just lithium tremors from a desperate and lonely boy,
Who couldn't eat soup with a spoon,
She was a suicidal obsessive compulsive grammar Nazi,
Who was worth learning how to connect two independent clauses for,
He thought this,
While walking through feet,
Of northern Michigan snow,
Too arrogant to use a pathetic fallacy,
Yet he always looked for solace,
At the sand less edge of the water,
But,
Now he just remembers her stringy hair,
Floating,
Like water lilies,
Face up in the water,
Eyes open,
The ones that used to love Monet,
Their muddled red water colored look,
Showed it did not release her,
From her drowning pain,
The hardest part isn't holding,
The bath temperature stiffness,
It's putting the corpse down on the flooded floor and walking away,
I trusted you with my heart;
Where did you take it?