Through the looking glass
Of your eyes
I see hallow trees in a barren forest and skies
As black as coal

A desolate quiet so empty
You can hear the thump of your half-beating heart

Flowers don't grow here
For fear that they will be uprooted-
And they will-
By the cold, lifeless grasp of you

Those flowers don't belong here anymore
And perhaps they never did-
For how can life ever hope to flourish
In something so dead?