Tell me about how much you’ve cut down from your garden. I once saw it bloom – I even kept pedals tucked away between the pages of my favorite books.

You’re only a martyr to the pain for so long. It eats at you- I can seen it under your tongue when you speak sad words. It sparks like a firecracker and you can’t keep it hidden for ever. Everyone forgets about your sadness when they’re ready to let go of it, but I never do.

What’s still drowning in the parts of you that were once shallow? Only answer if you feel the swaying of an ocean in your bones. Create the storm. Rile the hurricane. Feed the tornado. Let every disaster fall apart naturally within you. Because breaking can look calm if you do it well.

I just hope you can still smell the flowers you once delicately planted. Watched you tend to them so purposefully. It’s only a season, so let it pass, but love it too. Care for it how you once did, because they need you too. AMT