all her toil

 There are gardens that bloom with overflowing vines I've planted a story in each of those roots i see their leaves that nurture and wither  they are mine dead vine leaves, veins showing I've picked up a few they'll stay with me they are mine pieces of my stories they may get crushed or forgotten they are mine.

 at my lowest, my most vulnerable, when i needed you the most you chose to leave you chose alone you made that decision before you came your hands couldnt hold mine your words hurt  - you will need help for that depression again you said... stings, so many a cigarette couldnt be shared you were long gone no it wasnt a conversation it was news to be relayed maybe it was needed to be done but it could have been done better package it outside of a streetside coffee shop maybe somewhere a tear could be shed where a hug could have smoothened the edges i couldnt have felt stranger or more alive than a dried frail branch that you stepped on and left behind cracked on that dusty road  and only today I know why and how i feel. its taken me this long to know i was in pain. 3/01/24

i dreamt a normal day again this morning of you wrapped on me me cold as always you lending me your warmth as you do I wake up to reality, shake those moisture laden webs move on with the day finding more a scent here, a sound there, that thing you gave me, that laugh we shared freshly wrapped in my new found webs i'll go back to bed

   to fear a walk into those beautiful familiar woods to snatch away from the faint smell of those tuberoses growing wild circling the boundaries of the known, the sun beats down. the feet turn around and walk free  from unconditional love