The shrubs are overgrown and evident of the
time we spend neglecting them and ourselves.
They breathe the threats we hiss
as we kiss
the love away we'd bought.
They witness regret and seldom connect
our paths lightly.
They see the bright stars shift
as we strive to sift
the memories remembered no more.
They grow as if fed by our lack of control;
They reflect disinterest for souls
sold long ago.