love, men, poetry

Tender

The plants

Are winning

And the part of me

Which fought,

Lost and retreated

Wants to roll up

My sleeves and fix it all

The scrapes and cuts

Studded along my arms

But it’s not my war to fight

And the only fallen comrade

Is in the mirror

But the guilt

Wraps itself

Snaking across the trellis

Of my bones

And it squeezes with

The strength of regret

Even as I know, had I stayed,

I would have hung

Dessicated from the vines

But there were flowers there

Still

But not mine to tend to

I’d tell you this

How I’ve learned from

The wreckage I caused

That the man I am

Started here but has

Found fresh soil

In which to bloom

And if I’m sometimes

Too much action

Then you’d understand

How I lived and fought

Before, that inaction

Builds like plaque

And with you

I’m not that man any longer

And yet I still look

To show the depth of feeling

Within me without

Turning you away

So, to hearts garden

Where the plants grow

Trimmed and cultivated

And there I sit

Waiting for you.

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