You were the few leaves of Ivy
That over grew onto the building
And I the willing building

You were the small speck of rust that
over took my smallish metal frame
Crippling me from allowing anyone else inside
And I the willing frame

You were the mold
that spread against my walls
infecting me
Causing me to be ‘Closed For Good’
but I allowed the spread
never doing anything to halt
the damaging process

I never had anything to offer you
But you still took everything I had
And after I was completely encased in You
You moved on
To see what other damage You could cause

I asked a six year old
What she thought love was
And her response was
Simple
She told me that
“Love is coloring outside the lines,
Because no matter what,
They will always love
Your drawing”
And her answer was simple but
It kept me awake at night
Because I never showed you the deep
Purples that bruised my thoughts
And the black scribbles that were
Supposed to be organized
But instead went everywhere
And the painful reds
followed by pale pinks
Because I began to believe
That a six year old knew more
About love than
Me