I blame the nimble child in my memories
for letting them into the garden of youth
him and her
assigned with the unforgivable task of nurturing
something so raw and tender
without ever knowing the true meaning of the two
bearers of this thicket of rosemary bushes
and buds that smell like marmalade
who knew this unfaltering mass so full of life
once nestled in her womb
ripening and maturing
the couple didn't realize the garden wouldn't halt
after it first felt the air embracing it
him and her
were gentle at first
loving, devoted
coating the flora and fauna in
tales of heroism and brighter times
but they missed the part about the happy ending
where the flower petals weren't strewn across
the grave of a child's mind
him and her
didn't have much of a green thumb
but rather red knuckles
not like the satin face of a rose
but like a molten meteor about to strike
on their relationship
on the garden
the weeds started growing back
the lungs of the vegetation became limp
the couple tried fixing it
talking to plants will make them grow
who could blame them for thinking that talking also meant shouting?
him and her
didn't realize topiary
wasn't the same as ripping apart roots
leaving permanent scars
that couldn't be healed by a full watering can
or a nutrient rich fertilizer
the couple didn't care anymore
the garden tried fighting back
growing thorns twice as sharp twice as fast
a wall to slow their ivory fists
how could they blame the jam dewdrops sprouting at their fingertips
on such a thing?
him and her
didn't love the garden anymore
quitting at a job they put upon themselves
digging up seeds with their icy retorts
before they had the chance to blossom
pulling caterpillars off branches
and creating art pieces out of them with their shoes
against the pavement
the garden was drenched in it's own blood
too many times that it couldn't remember
the feeling of water sliding down its tendrils anymore
him and her
never saw the garden again
they left without saying goodbye
without teaching the garden to live on its own
without cleaning the mess they made
without being a mother
or father
they didn't care anymore
and why should they?
because a garden
is nothing but a graveyard
if all it's flowers
have wilted
-ken m
3/24/20
{dedicated to all the beautiful people
with shitty families
I hope you experience pure love one day}
