Potted Plants.

 

 

You always talked so BIG.

Your poshly potted diction planting seeds

Oh, the dirt your tongue could dig-

That gouged the earth like feasting thieves.

 

Your hands like branches, always spread.

But I was  grasping at your roots.

Your spout was out in other gardens.

Your love was quenching other fruits. 

 

But you always left a space for me

Between your syllables and sheets.

You'd wrap me up inside the green

Speak of centuries and tally rings.

 

But all your leaves decayed in winter

And your bark had much more bite

With no more shelter for your splinters

I saw the soil cave in one night.

 

And when I left for greener pastures

You tried to trap me with your vines

But now I'm far from your fake forest

And you're strung out on power lines.