Growing Roses

Take me with you.

Into your dark places.

Those twisted parts in the back of your mind. Torturous and forgotten, until the thorns stab, probe, and throb into a memory. Eliciting that familiar sinking of your heart, like a stone held in place by rubber bands that have suddenly snapped and collapsed against the weight, leaving your gaping chasm of a chest open and empty. So empty and hollow, a void so deep, a wound to your soul, straight to your core. The pain is like nothing you've ever felt but, somehow, it's so familiar. It's an unforgiving agony that is transcendental, no physical pain could ever match it. 

It lasts, seemingly, forever, until those rubber bands snap back into place and your heart rebounds. It rebounds perfectly back into place. A lost piece of yourself returned, whole again. Except for that missing chip, a minute fragment, that has broken off...letting that void out. That chasm that whispers and flows out, feeding the thorns. 

I'm not afraid, I can guide you if you let me.