A girl with paprika pigtails,
With eyes that sparkled like honey.
A boy with a heart of obsidian breathes life to, The garden of her mind.
His charcoal eyes were comforting,
But chaos lay just beyond his pupils And his soft breath of life became heavy.
A storm blew through,
Late October, the 27th to be exact. And when the girl returned,
Her garden was in shreds.
A boy with cherry cheeks
And tree bark hair,
Was ensnared by her honey eyes freshly slated by sorrow.
She hesitates to grant him entry into her garden,
But allows him to tend to the budding memories alongside her. He nourished the garden,
Where bees buzz blissfully over baby’s breath,
His sturdy hand, a rock for her.
The cheeky chrysanthemums crooned their stems, And promiscuous hibiscuses gave him kisses. Bundling bouquets, she gifted thoughts to him. But he began to share her flowers,
His boredom creeping in.
Garden

He visited less often,
Letting his lover’s lilacs die.
Her heart cracked like the soil that Had dried over time.
She threw herself at his feet,
Thorns cradling her skin in the process. Her hands with earthquake tremors, Fog settling over her conscience.
Each sour sentence he spoke,
A spade in her heart.
From her wounds, the plants were Watered red.
Poison ivy sprouted from the trauma And still she wants to salvage,
The mess the boy had made.
His last request were her roses, Blooming in between barred legs.

His hunger for her innocence became cancerous like weeds.

The flowers he demanded
Were taken, not given, And her garden dwindled.
She locked him out and uprooted the garden of her mind.
He left a crater, where beauty once flourished.
Whatever was left,
She had to leave behind.