Do you remember our garden?
The one we used to dream about?

We planted seeds and flowers rose from the earth.
Do you remember our garden,
where the birds once sang
and sunlight painted everything gold?
Do you remember what happened to our garden?

What became of our flowers,
our seeds, the birds, the sun?

Perhaps they began to rot after you colored the soil red.  
When you stepped over our flowers
and broke the wings of the birds.

I want you to weep for the blood you spilled.
I want you to mourn our garden
and the roots you burned.
I want you to look at the ashes
and let them remind you of the life
you chose to bury.

Do you remember our garden?
The one we used to dream about?
-  I still do.

Wandering across dewy grass,
with the taste of red wine
still burning on my tongue.

My eyes rise up to the stars,
with mistrust,
as though their light had
betrayed me.

I curse them
for ever giving me
a sense of hope.  
I tear them down
from the midnight sky and
throw them to the ground.
Damping their light
in the dewy grass
beneath the sole of my shoe.

“There’s nothing left to shine for”
I tell them.