For Vincent
You took
one step forward and tell me
you
planted all the secrets deep in the soil
“van Gogh would’ve known,” you said.
With
warmth on your smile you took a step
backward
and let me tend it
wounds
you would not let anyone peek
I guarded
it as if it was mine to keep
precious,
vulnerable
hoping
someday it will grow and grow
to be the
love of a lifetime
Spring
came but it never bloomed
the roots
hardened
the branches
broke
and
cracks appeared like terrible veins
on my
wrist
I watered
and watered with nothing but
teardrops
and agony
But it
died leaving no whisper
nor love
And I do
realize
van Gogh would
have known
for it
was selfish lies you buried underneath
Love, May & November
