So that I can purge
these feelings inside of me
The feelings and urges
Of recent heart cracks
That make me
Want to hurt you
The solution it seems
Unsurprisingly to me
Is to
Write
More
Words

I don't need to talk.
Talking is circles
And friends agreeing
With every view I see
Even though my view
Has been skewed
By you.
It's no secret
I'm no fool
So why do they do it?

If I could just
Gather these feelings
On to a page
Surely my rage
Will subside
And then
Like a full body sigh
Things will-
...feel lighter
And you will be
More memory
Than constant reminder

So here I am
Madly scribbling
All this time later
These words
Which allegedly
Will release me
From all the
Convictions of you

But
I write with a pencil
Just in case
The seasons change and
I should ever want to erase
These documented tears
And instead
Pick up the phone
And talk circles
With a friend
Or even
talk circles
With you.

Leaves wilted
Roots dry
Hidden in the unlit
corner of the room
You miss the brightness
of the morning sun

Put there
to pretty up this
bare space
Unaware
that you need more
than admiring looks
and shards
of fading light
to survive

Where did your green-ness go?
Once glorious
now brown tinged
and limp  
Walking past you  
I can't help
but look away

I know
I should do
Something
About you

A leaf falls
Feelings of thirst and
Engulfing darkness
Take their toll

Soon
There will be
Nothing left
But a shriveled up stem
And you'll be tossed outside
Discarded
With the rest of them

Really, I'm a terrible gardener.

Hey, you over there!
Do you want to hold my hand?
Oh. Never mind then.