The Garden
Photo by Najem Mendes from Pexels.
And my heart cries,
Weeps,
Sobs
At the thought
That you’ve found another.
That maybe,
You’re through with me.
I’ve been tainted,
Tossed around by the evil hands of what we call ‘fortune’
Imperfect, I am.
But you saw me,
Ignored the rotten parts of me and enjoyed the sweet juice from my fruit,
Took care of the growing vines,
made sure
I was watered.
Then you dug further into the soil beneath it all,
Saw dried roots, wilted petals,
And left me to rot.
My heart cries,
Like sap drips from a tree, tears fall from my eyes.
Have you found another?
One that bears sweet fruit?
Sweet nectar and flowers full of life?
My heart cries,
my heart weeps,
And my heart sobs
For the broken promise of the possibility that someone could see through the decay in my fruit,
And
the bitter flavor of my soul.
