Do they know what it’s like to cease to be loved,
to become a stranger to an intimate other?
In that moment you were fully know and fully rejected.
Do they know? Do they know?
How my heart bled of reason,
How I couldn’t stand the person I’d become,
How standing now as acquaintances with a past,
makes me want to scream blue?
How I want to shake them until they tell me something I recognise:
How can I be once again acceptable, once more adored?
I have tried to shrink myself but my heart is too swollen,
It sticks out of me like a wound.
My mind is a tangled, untamable garden: overgrown and neglected.
And I carry this into every new encounter,
every pulling away is another towering weed,
another strangled flower.