my mind is most definitely a garden
and you gave up being the gardener of it a while back
i used to let my thoughts grow wild and as they pleased, like flowers,
because i didn't have to worry about anyone stopping by to pick their favorites.
you're back now, and all my thoughts have scattered and grown twice as fast,
leaving my mind covered in vines speckled with purples and pinks and oranges,
a variation of thoughts.
but you're my secret gardener, you see;
i must sift through the sea of beautiful variations,
bundling up the most appropriate thoughts
and sending them out to be delivered to my neighbors, my friends,
choosing only the prettiest ones in the nicest sentences,
never giving away any special flowers that might grow alongside my skull
never revealing anything of my special gardener