He was not a rose with thorns 

Or a daisy being forever plucked 

He loves me 

He loves me not 

 

He was weaving ivy 

Everytime I cut him back 

He’d creep through the smallest crevice 

 

He would find the gate to the hidden garden in my heart 

Unlock the latch and wind through each part of me 

 

So slowly at first 

That one would not even know he was there 

Until the garden was overrun with vines 

 

The ivy lies across the lawn, a perfect Greek God

Caresses the lilies by the pond 

Holds up the climbing roses as they grow 

 

Until everything that grew needed him to support them 

Dependent on those emerald leaves to protect them from the storm brewing overhead 

or shade in the middle of the hot summer’s day 

 

I let the ivy grow

Life in the garden became so jaded 

 

So when summer drew to a close

The ivy began to retreat

and the garden started to die 

 

Piece by piece 

The lawn yellowed 

The lilies dipped below the surface of the pond and drowned

The climbing roses, with nothing to hold onto, fell softly 

The birds stopped singing 

and devastation reigned 

 

At the mercy of loss

I kneeled at the edge of my secret garden 

Hands in the dirt 

Barefoot and shivering 

Wishing the ivy would return 

 

I should have known better 

Put padlocks on the gate and locked only myself inside 

Placed poison around the perimeter 

But more fool me 

Let the ivy tie around my wrists and throat 

Carry me away