Conflicted am I, of how to respond...
Once we were lovers.
You kept me safe and warm.
Our love was a garden,
With a few weeds here and there -
Normal, quaint, secure, and beautiful;
It lacked all malice and didn't require much care.
But then a fire, sprang to life.
It destroyed all growth and happiness.
The ashes left only anger, pity, strife...
Within the destruction, we tried to sow anew.
A few blossoms flourished,
But weeds of bitterness grew...
For you were the one to start the fire.
And it was difficult to forget;
Your responsibility to the end of our sacred place -
Now only home to regret.
And as the thorny vines of hatred,
Crept towards the fresh blooms,
They choked out all hope,
Once again, making our garden only a tomb.
For then it dawned upon me,
That while the spark you did light -
I had planted the weeds, and created the kindling
That fed the fire that night.
And when you did repent, and tried to plant again -
I let those vines grow back.
The fault was mine that our garden did end.
Years since, we've tilled the soil,
In the hope that life returns...
Day by day we prune and trim - slowly
Trying to regrow love, among the scars and burns.
With patience, and tender care -
Forgiveness has blossomed,
It's sweet scent rides upon the air.
Love flows like rays of sunlight;
Kissing every inch with warmth.
Life has returned upon this place -
It has become the center or our home and hearth.
But conflicted am I; that is the weed of the hour.
It has such hateful thorns,
But a crown of love, like a flower.
For while our garden is springing back to life -
You've started playing with matches again -
The sparks of betrayal cut like a knife.
For you know how easily sparks can start a fire.
You've seen the pain they have caused -
And yet, to rid yourself,
You seem to lack the desire.
When will the fire stop burning within your soul?
When will they be put away from your sight?
Do you not see, that our garden;
Is at risk for a wild fire tonight?