I sit outside until I can breathe
Spring is nostalgia wrapped in blackberry vines
The only things I grow have thorns
Cactus, rose, those brambles
Of sweet pre-berry pain
I walk this like a tightrope
Undo the work you did
To make myself new
To make this place mine.
Clear the land enough to build a fire
And burn it away
Sleeping beauty would be safe
In this house
I curve the roses into walls
Braid them into chainlink
Ignoring the sweet sting on my hands
I sit outside in trees enough
To make a forest deep and dark to hide in
I will need more than breadcrumbs
To forge a way back home
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.05 seconds at 3:30am on Nov 23, 2024 via server WEBX1.