HE planted a garden of roses on my heart.
they began to grow over time, the stems weaving through my ribcage, the thorns pricking at my lungs.
i ignored the drops of blood, because everything was so beautiful to look at.
then the day came when HE decided the garden wasn’t beautiful enough.
HE plucked a rose from my garden, our garden, and gave it to HER.
the emptiness inside me mirrored the wilted flowers from my garden, our garden.
all that was left were the gashes on my lungs from the thorns.
i tried watering the roses everyday, clinging to the hope that maybe the garden could be revived.
my garden, our garden.
but it was useless, because the roses were too far gone.
it’s so heartbreaking to know that the roses, once full and red, are now so dried and brown.
i keep one of the dead petals in a journal of mine, pressed between pages with graphite marking of our love.
it hurts to look at it, because i put everything i had into that garden, only for HIM to give a rose to HER, a rose from my garden, our garden.
our ******* garden.
i can’t breathe anymore, not with all these holes in my lungs.
please come back.
we can start new, plant a new garden.
just come back.