Bloom for me.
Cover this house with your evergreen reach.
Keep the winters cold,
and when the summer comes like it will,
Block that sun,
Bless this place with your shade.
This tendency to boil
and this passion for a freeze
has grown old, rotten.
Before long,
you’ll do as you’re told,
and the sun will never graze this home.
My skin will never tan;
I will forget how to move.
Your canopy love will suffocate the earth,
and the water,
Poison will spread from mold
and rot.
So I’ll take the axe my father left me
right to your base
with a cry for each chop I take.
And from this forest that my mother bought
with the money we had left,
I will make kindling
and build a fire to burn your body.
The smoke, colored with your name,
once stretched to the top of the sky
will fall into these woods
and creep its way in through my windows
and seep silent into my lungs.
My parents told me I could always be free,
that no metal door
or wooden bridge
could keep me any place.
But your remains will seed into ivy
and wind its way the way I know it will.

i always get what i want.
how beautiful this life should seem.