Mould has grown in the places you used to touch .
Darling what a terrible thing that is.
I was once a rose with so many thorns but have turned into nothing but a fungus , a **** , nothing but a disaster.
You came to me with your edges so sharp willing to cut off my petals if things got too much .
I let you in and moulded myself around you , my vines intertwined with your limbs trying to make us one.
You never liked the felling of another pressed against you , never quite understood how one could stay in the same place for such a length of time without wanting to expand further and Interrupt another's path.
What you didn't know was I gave you everything , I shed my petals to give you a bed of roses , but it seemed my path wasn't good enough nor my petals bright enough or even my vines intertwined with your limbs enough to make you stay.
So I sit here , as my body withers with nothing but a fungus to keep me warm , I intertwine my body with the mould given and hope that one day you will come back , with your edges not so sharp and sinful and tell me how bright my petals were and how sorry you are for making me nothing more than a notch in your bedpost.
