the soil of my soul -

ii. let them bloom | a poem

he came home with blood on his fists

and dirt on his clothes.

and for the third time this week,

i had to stitch up his wounds with the stings in my heart.

even though he told me not to worry,

to go ahead and and get some rest,

there was only one reason he wanted my eyes closed -

so that i could witness a darkness more peaceful than his love.

my baby had a fetish for breaking hearts.

i fed it every day when i spilled my seeds

into his soil hoping that flowers would bloom someday.

so darling, when you see the rocks in his soil,

do not try to pull them out one by one.

find a different place to plant.

- written by me x