Uprooted

written around a year ago, when looking back on a past relationship.

I once watched you from the plastic grass field,

your gaze turning to me. We were both the same,

the magnetism not yet evident.

We walked back arm in arm, hand in small hand.

When did this all start? Fitting perfectly

in the crook of your neck - perfect pillow,

fingers close but not quite touching, and sleep

not quite comfortable, and still fully warm.

I kiss your cheek - you grin and hurry off,

a letter of approval standing there

as I scurry away, painted red shades.

We never mention it. How would we dare?

Alone in our solitude, you reveal

who you want to be - who I want to be.

But wanting never leads to good. I sigh

as you're dragged through a tinted sea of pink.

Shush, you call, as the pink people return,

wishing you well as I stand all alone,

a single fern amongst the rose garden,

Picking dandelions with hesitance.

Your voice becomes distant - every call, 

each tainted letter like a soaring bullet.

Liquid dynamite seeping from my cracks

as you say goodbye for the final time.

I hear your voice in whispered rumours

in frenzied apologies - aimed at me.

I smile and laugh it off, watching a new

pink-green pairing appear in our garden.

I watch you again from the empty field,

similar again in its own grey way.

You smile, facing a newer, better me,

blossoming as I fade into nothing.

Author's Note

be as brutal with feedback as possible, I really want to improve my writing.