Under the Wreath

I’ve never trusted anyone so much, but now you’ve gone
And my heartbeat wilts over the telephone,
Holding close to my chest is the rose of the home
That you gave me some time ago,

And when the space drops thin and my blood is weak,
I’ll know inside that it wasn’t who’s teeth
That caught me by the jugular in the end of this freak
Show, and so you know I buried your heart under the wreath

That you left on my front porch on that cold winter’s night.
I fought so long, but it was useless to fight
What can’t be fought or wrangled into your own desperate plight.
It wasn’t your battle, it was mine and it wasn’t your but my might

That failed this stupid tug of war game we play.
And just so it’s said, let me say,
That at the end of every snow-covered day,
I still wear your sweater and swear I’ll change.

Author's Note

I will almost never explain what my poetry means, since I don't want you to follow my meaning of it. The meaning is entirely up to you and I'd love to hear what your translation is, why it means something to you or why it doesn't. The more in-depth the better, but that doesn't mean you have to write something really long and depthy if you don't want to. I appreciate any and all reviews. <3

Reviews

[Mary Bosworth]

This really does pull the reader in. It is written with openness and reality of a situation

[Dindella]

Thank you! I'm glad you like it! (heart)