You remind me of the scent of fresh, green grass and rich lavender bushes
Which fills my early days,
Days of precious child-like wonder,
Before the insecurity of a broken home and dysfunction became the norm.

Noting changes.
Nothing grows.

Empty highs.
Empty lows.

I can't feel the warm,
And I can't feel the cold.

You try to make me happy,
And I try just for you.
But other than our trying,
Nothing else is new.

I worry I'll upset you,
If I can't make a change.
It's not fair of me,
To make you stay the same.