Weeping Weeds

My heart was a sacred garden. Your stare was the rich soil. Nurturing kisses became the water. Your voice was my everlasting sunshine. My lilacs began blooming into purple rays. Illuminating. Glowing. Weeping. Falling. Now my heart is an empty pot, and my lungs are slowly inflating with the weeds you left behind.

This poem is about: 
Our world

Comments

bbrooklynb

The result of hurting inside and anxiety taking over.

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