it’s growing well.

it takes up space,

growing on all the weathered

cobblestone, infusing itself

directly into the

cornerstone of our bridge.

it misses you, I think.

I know I do.

I’ve been lonely

but the ivy keeps me company,

on these perpetually solemn days

as we await your return.

she is smiling.

she misses you.

I am glad.

it is nice without you–

don’t return.

I will slowly choke you

with an overflow of “love”

if you choose to come back

because she is mine now

and you chose your

path

I wish I could choose yours

I wish I had that freedom

of choice

it must be so liberating

so don’t even begin

to taunt me with your

return because

strangling, entanglement,

a slow and encroaching death

will be in your future.

There’s rusting in the bushes

but is it the wind, freckling my isolation

with a brief noise?

or could it be a reprieve?

would you be so kind

to slip back into my life?

or at the very least,

the ivy seems to miss you.

I don’t miss you.

stay away.

no one shall enter;

I will thread myself across the gate

and lock it from

the inside–

no one can get in,

no one can get out.

she will remain alone

and you will never reenter.

and maybe, one day,

I will grow past the gate

and choose

between something, anything–

perhaps finding a life

that could be comparable to yours

but please don’t

don’t return

don’t return

don’t – it is too painful

to see someone with a life

so wonderful

thrown away for a girl

although the girl is quite beautiful

but we match –

you do not –

outsider.

we are green;

her eyes examine me closely and

they are piercing, stunningly gorgeous

an emerald, they could be camouflaged with me

yours are dark.

they are greedy but never appreciative.

a dark color – perhaps brown?

you came back for me

and you smell of lavender and home

I want to leave with you

but exhaustion fatigues you

and we agree to lie down

for a meditative rest

so we fall into each other

but remain on the surface

it’s you.

you’re close enough, I am strong enough.

it will happen;

I warned you.

Perhaps if all goes well

I can take your life

and take it over, too.

so my arm stretches out

and wraps around you like a scarf

and I exhale a scent of morphine

onto your nose

to keep you sedated

so you feel no pain

she’d like that

but you would be in pain

the scarf tightens and

I wrap you up tighter

the world is too cold for you

you’d never survive

and seemingly, you don’t

but before you slipped away,

I saw your eyes,

up close but impersonal,

and the serenity of blue

was almost enough

to evoke forgiveness;

but not everyone has to be

forgiven.

please accept my gratitude

for your life

in its place.