over time, my garden has become desolate, and
i told you that i feared for its demise, i
told you that at night i would cry, as
the petals from my flowers would fall, one by one, and
you knew, you
knew of the darkness that was consuming me, and
i thought you were the light, i
thought you were tending to my garden of loneliness, words
acting like sunshine and rain, but
you weren't, when
i thought you were digging holes to plant seeds of love, adoration,
and happiness, you
were digging graves to bury the broken parts of yourself, you
turned my garden into a graveyard and i still don't know why.