you told me not to get too attached but didn’t you know that it was already too late? — you spent the last few months watering my roses as they wilted, trimming off the thorns so i wouldn’t get hurt; giving life, giving hope. how could you take away the garden you grew in me now?

d.

too late to save me.

When all the joyful casualness faded away 
& the awkwardness of unfamiliarity crept back in; 

that’s when I knew, 
we had reached an eternal plateau.

All I could pray for was that there wasn’t going to be a backslide.