This letter buried deep within my journal
will probably never find itself being caressed by your hands
studied through your beautiful eyes
or send a tingly feeling to the core of your chest

None of your senses recognize me anymore
it’s as if you can’t feel me,
a has been metaphor describes me to you
and us being in-sync

You stay out too much,
to touch and kiss me much
but I miss you much

Absence makes me fond of once shared laughter between us
but it makes my heart mourn
we’re dying and I can’t seem to grieve enough
who cares to be distant from one who has a portion of your soul?

Cool out periods between us make me cold hearted
time apart to sort shit out when my spirit knows it’s suppose to be you and me
got my brain stuck on depressing shit
and I look like the walking dead
I’m too damn pretty for this shit

God made sure we became reconnected after loving each other
in multiple previous lifetimes
so who the hell are you to fuck up continuously
as if we’re starring in one of those overly dramatic movies on Lifetime

You were blessed and destined to be in my life
but you’ll never control my destiny
I refuse to roll down hills of lost hope with you
into an abyss of misery
where we go,
our children follow
and baby neither we or our babies belong there

The view of dirt looks familiar to you
you’ve become an Indian giver to fertilized land
planting seeds one day,
snatching away its life at the roots the next

You’re the strongest coward I’ve ever known
afraid that the beauty of blossomed love
will take your breathe away and place your focus elsewhere,
growth

Dead things have become easier for you to accept
more bearable for your limited tolerance than to want more nourishment
Is that why you’ve buried your hope
your aspirations
your reasoning to be better?
Do you keep your hands in dirt to avoid the resurrection of lost dreams?
Or is the thought of blossoming into what you should be dead to you?

I tried all I could to divert your attention
so I can dig up what doesn’t suit you any more
you stole my heart,
in return I wanted to steal your perceived to be tarnished buried treasure
and replant it in front of our new home
so you can witness what a miracle transformation looks like
A rose growing from concrete

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