I was rooted
within the forest --
so cold-blooded
yet no one noticed
he swept me off my feet.

He promised me
such a sweet loved life
-
-

These are my bars.
Limbs that stretch too much
to soaring stars
I could never touch –
these limbs are defective.

Bitter restart,
frail, powerless cudgels
grasping at Heart.
Claws cutting pastels,
shredding ****** dawn sky.

My mirror sepals
are names and faces
of all people
who meet my graces
or sail my winding path.

Leaves of glazed gold
reflect sun’s bright rays
as they enfold
the sharpened green maze
in torn and ripped portraits

Leaves of Abyss
litter my bony scars
swallow my bliss
coat me like hot tar --
kissing at dying bark.

Red lipstick stains
on switchblade carvings
of names on veins
with no callings
see me as a trophy.

Not one of worth --
just merely conquered.
A space for berth
and his young *******.
I am nothing to him.

He can't see me
as mighty Belle Arbre
or hear my plea
as I feel his barb
plunge my old wooden core.

They'll cut me down,
carve me to shape them --
I'll be His crown
as they are condemned
by my only Father.

That's so far long --
sitting on his lap,
dreaming I'm strong
enough to entrap
all my stolen virtue.