i grow my hair long, not because i like the way it looks, but because weeds always seem to grow in abandoned gardens.
you will not find roses here in my mind, only thorns on withering bushes and insecurities on overwatered thoughts.
you took all the hope away from me, along with all the seeds, cut the roots to all my dreams then sat and watched them bleed.
and me, you left shattered and afraid in a garden that was never meant to be traveled alone.
the path here is so wide, it was made for two, but my body walks it on its own and my hand is so cold as it rests empty by my side.
do you ever think of me or this garden or the roses that used to be?
or what about this path we used to walk or this tree we used to kiss beneath or do you ever just sit and think of me?
i grow my hair long, not because i like the way it looks, but because it reminds me of the garden we once had together--
the one now consumed by weeds and long hair and dead dreams.