I think
           there are flowers growing
                                    out of your
                       mouth.
You taste like weeds:
         Wet and
   muddy.
                                      Our roots
                                         or legs
                  tangled
in the dark              once
and I thought I remembered safety
in the vines
           But now they have
                                            all
                                                 been
                            stripped
away.

Now,
          I am like this empty house.
I am all cuts
         all bruises
         all dirt
And it hurt          when you left me
                     but I
            am still standing
The
      foundation
                       is
                          cracked
              but still strong