There is a hot dark coal inside me
It was once a great tree
It grew so fast and so tall,
and I was so proud of it
and I wanted so much to show it to you
it was in the garden of my soul
wild and tangled and complicated
and I wanted so much to show you
but I did not want to take you down the ***** path
I did not want to take you past all the other growing things
not until you wanted to
not until I knew that you wanted to see the garden of things inside
and know me as a whole thing
I did not want to make it complicated for you
or for me

I was embarrassed at the unchecked size of it,
its roots went to the core of the world that I knew
seeking the fountain of life and youth
and it's branches grabbed at the universe itself
greedy with desire
proclaiming it's power
the tree was love itself
or my naïve selfish expression of it
and it was proud and gaudy and foolish


and when you wandered off,
I was so disappointed,
and I was so ashamed then
that here was this tree that you would never see
that I had grown for you.
But mostly for me

and I tried so hard to let it exist,
to let it be as it was.
because the thought of cutting it down seemed petty
and I loved the tree that was my love for you
because I did not stop loving you after you left

but time still beat, and the tree grew old and ridiculous
and it eventually died, because it could not live
because though I did not cut it down,
I also did not tend it,
I tried very hard not to see it
but I always found myself walking by it
and I always saw it, and knew it
I looked at it and the broken promise of it
and I let it die and I hoped it would die fast


but it died slowly
it died so ****** slowly
it died in pieces, branches at a time
leaves and bark and flowers
and I burned them as fast as they fell,
and now there is just the coal of it left,
smoldering
hot, and fiery still
and I want to put water on it.

But I know I never will