I wrote to you in hopes
that it would help me forgive myself,
so I could stop cutting down the flowers
that grew from my veins,
watering them with cyanide
and still crying when they died.
Tears haven’t stopped flowing from my eyes
since I decided to find my own life
and I left you behind with the shattered glass
that used to be pieces of your heart
I hoped that these words
would be some sort of key
that would let me leave this cage
that is rotting around me
filled with piles of unspoken words,
melodic verses of things that I should have said
when I needed to say them,
now everything is broken
and I am stuck in my own mind
with a piece of paper and a pen
trying to figure out how
I can make myself whole again.