walking thru the broken garden of things you were supposed to heal,
people, you told not to rely
as if every cut stem wasn't a sign,
petal, as potential's ashes
burning away in seconds of time
drenching death in red,
quiet sky overhead, pleading pleads of why, pleads of please, pleads of try
trailing hopes you have to extinguish
never exposing tangle in vine,
essence of your core.
soul drips soil, drips wine
like every past lover you try to ignore