Forest:
You slash
and burn 
my limbs,
all desparate 
for a piece of my body.
I'm forced to watch 
your reckless
lives unfold 
as I'm shaped 
into all the excess
things you chain 
me for. 
I feel your ink
against my flesh
as you try to capture 
the magnitude of human fallibility
in your novels,
but somehow forget 
to look down at the saw 
clenched between your hands. 

I clutch onto the ballon.
My feet dangle, 
as they skim over fluffy specks of dust

I tie the string around my hand 
and promise to never let it go. 
Just my balloon and me.

It catches onto a slight breeze,
bobbing and weaving past razor
sharp mountains.
​
My heart rockets,
ready to blast off into the horizon. 
Complete bliss fueling the engine.

But all it takes is a single branch,
beneath the bustle of green blades,
to pop what is fragile.

Flimsy string slips from my grip 
as I plummet 
back to planet Earth.

Sun:
I rouse
them from their sleep
with gentle kisses. 
Their petals unfurl 
against my glare. 
I promise
to always return.
For they should never dread 
the dark. 

Boy: 
I envision
the dimples 
that will illuminate 
her cheeks 
when the whiff
of summer infuses 
her senses.
Dainty buds
always blossom
with time. 

Husband:
When she sniffs
the sweet fragrance 
will the years of forgetting 
and empty silence
become a distant 
blur?
Can it buy
us back our youth 
and erase
the fine lines creased
across our brows?
Will it stand
as a remembrance 
that life requires
more than sunlight 
and water 
to really consider 
one alive? 
​