I confessed to all my grieving,
ten years I've been trying to cut you down
vines of you keep winding and reeling
up the nostrils,
a suffocating cloud.
I wonder if you know how parasitic
your existence is upon the bones of me,
living in a present tense,
regurgitating us, over and again.
I wonder if you sleep on pillows,
stuffed with thorns of looks I gave and things I said,
I wonder if you chest starts beating when you contemplate my end inside your head.
I wonder if we'll regret those choices, choices made to keep us calm and keep us safe,
when I picture us together
I only see us spine side up within a lake
and as I stand here in my almost freedom,
with tendrils of you coming out my ears,
I have to say it is no better standing here
making ungrateful humans scrambled eggs.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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