I Should Have Never Told You


I Should Have Never Told You


Your eyes were a spectrum of passion that

I had never seen before.

They were reflecting pools that rippled with the cries of spring peepers

I had dreamt of hearing again.

They were the homes of soft velvet moss that

promised me the future didn’t exist.


Your fingertips carved your sweet intentions into my upper thighs like lovers’ names

in the bark of an old weeping willow tree. 

I could tell your gentle hands were searching for asylum.


So, I let you take refuge in the crashing waves that 

were my chaotic soul.

I let you salvage the wind of your own breath that 

had been stolen from your lungs. 

I let you reclaim the surging power you had been craving 

since obsidian replaced your heart.

I let you set fire to the jungle I had spent 

my whole life nurturing.

I let you break down my mountains that 

even God himself could not have created on the seventh day.


Just so I could save your burning soul.


But those same fragile, desperate eyes promised to raise a forest around me.