Your Garden

I was there when you built your garden

I helped you pick what plants to grow

I held your hand when you spoke of the harvest and all the meals we would share.

I was there when your crop was in bloom, I helped you weed around every plot.

I saw you smile like a child with his favorite toy and I never wanted it to end.

 

I never wanted to stop holding your hand or watching you smile or hearing your joy.

But the truth is that gardens only grow for a season.

 

The truth is that once the harvest is over, there are no more gardens to grow.

Once the seasons change and the days get darker, you move on.

 

And I was there when you started smiling at me less and less.

I was there when you showed him pictures of you and your garden.

Pictures I took.

 

I was there when you held hands with someone else and kissed someone else.

And just like weeds in the garden, I watched you toss me to the wind.

 

Like I was nothing. Like I hadn’t spent the last five months growing with you.

As if somehow the roots we grew together weren’t strong enough to hold me.

 

And I know my season is over

And I know that some plants don’t come back every year.

But I always thought this winter would be ours.

 

I always thought our warmth would be enough

That I could keep you safe all winter long.

Growing spearmint in the windows

And baby’s-breath in the bedroom.

 

And I never asked for a share your harvest

I never asked you for what you had grown or demanded anything in return.

All I ever wanted was you.

 

Though I knew this day was coming

I knew you would leave my soil as soon as the flowers stopped blooming.

And I should have planted forget-me-nots.

 

As if that would have stopped me from wilting to the sound of your voice

As if that would’ve stopped you from plowing away our past.

As if you ever really loved me.

At all

This poem is about: 
Me

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