Body Made of Vines

Plants don't stop growing unless you cut off their needs

And every breath I go to take,
My lungs fill with vines,
Twisting and choking,
Growing buds in perfect time,
Sprouting new branches,
That burst through my ribs,
And spreads to my neck,
Spreading my veins so thin,
And all I see,
Is the green of the grass,
That's far away from me,
My body is growing to meet,
Morphing and changing,
Letting in light,
The delicate beating,
The heart made of vines,
Tightly woven flowers,
Supporting my bones,
But when these fail,
We do not know,
So for now I am choked,
Losing control of my mind,
As this plant spreads,
The spreading of vines.

Reviews

[Cobblestone Traveler]

Wow! Very vivid and well done. I can feel a sense of helpless panic as the vines take over. A sort of dark beauty. Enjoyed the read.

[LukewarmLollipop]

Thank you very much!