The veins in my heart,
rooted down to my stomach,
and from these roots began to grow a tree,
and on its branches caterpillars did roam
right there in my stomach,
they made their home.
yet I was alone.
Enter the lumberjack.
The caterpillars cocooned,
ready to begin the transformation
from girl to woman, oh, the sensation!
Time ticked on,
the lumberjack and I,
with that little spark in our eye,
from the tree, grew a garden, into woods
our love resounding above the forest canopy
the feral instincts, the cinders, the shade
until finally the Sun no longer shone
so the wall of qualms had to go,
in the form of trees,
one by one.
chopped.
Yet.
the wildfires had sparked
and the cocoons were now butterflies
and the forest we grew together was ablaze
what he didn't chop, my cinders singed,
ash by ash life was ceasing to be,
and then from the woods,
were we forced to flee.
and the butterflies flew free
the blossoms,
the trees,
burned
but the butterflies flew free,
in my stomach,
they are free
so now a bit of our dead forest lives in me.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 8:58 PM UTC
The veins in my heart,
rooted down to my stomach,
and from these roots began to grow a tree,
and on its branches caterpillars did roam
right there in my stomach,
they made their home.
yet I was alone.
Enter the lumberjack.
The caterpillars cocooned,
ready to begin the transformation
from girl to woman, oh, the sensation!
Time ticked on,
the lumberjack and I,
with that little spark in our eye,
from the tree, grew a garden, into woods
our love resounding above the forest canopy
the feral instincts, the cinders, the shade
until finally the Sun no longer shone
so the wall of qualms had to go,
in the form of trees,
one by one.
chopped.
Yet.
the wildfires had sparked
and the cocoons were now butterflies
and the forest we grew together was ablaze
what he didn't chop, my cinders singed,
ash by ash life was ceasing to be,
and then from the woods,
were we forced to flee.
and the butterflies flew free
the blossoms,
the trees,
burned
but the butterflies flew free,
in my stomach,
they are free
so now a bit of our dead forest lives in me.
well folks, this is what happens when you let your romance shade you from the light of the heavenly father.
I do not believe this is our final farewell,
but should it be,
at least we will still carry some of each other's ''good''
