Stop making me write
of only the sappy tree stumps
that aren't what they used to be.
Just dripping with lust
and longing
making the whole **** thing
sticky.
I want to make words worth while,
of bigger problems,
like a dead forest or two.
But my world has been burning also
with everything
that has to do
with you.
So I guess I'll plant a seed,
water it and leave it be.
Don't cut me down,
or be there to hear the sound,
there's already enough bleeding.
I believe you can make it better
steadier, and tall.
Maybe then these words will live a life,
instead of hearing the sound of
my tree stump mind,
waiting to grow through it all.

*-Makenzie.