hills of silent nodding flowers
stealing turpentine kisses under peach trees
pointed lips like butterfly wings
her quiet smile fluttered my heart
rippling rose petals upon clear wax waters
gently tangled together like knotted yellow string
ruffled clothing, hair, flora everywhere
her knowing eyes spoke poetry in my skin
it was then that i decided to live

you shoved me underwater.
out of sight,
out of mind.

i screamed.
you saw the bubbles,
and you ignored them.

you act as if i'm not alive.
and at this point,
i'm not sure you even care.

For the record I don’t write these for you
It’s my therapy. Mine alone.
A therapy you denied me.
You don’t deserve it.
It’s all I have left.

Your thistle bush affections,
Vibrant feathers for the bait.
Carried by my sock,
And buried miles away.

At least I didn’t write a poem about him..