seeds on the soil I have left
I never noticed the soil around my hands cracking, dry, starved of the rain. My own garden can't be watered by these tears. I thought my love was powerful enough to save you,
but your darkness was too much for my light. Your darkness was a bottomless pit for my tears; there was never room for my love to help you grow. I looked at my reflection, and it started to downpour.
I was trying to make his dark house bloom with flowers while silently dehydrating my garden. So, I packed up what seeds I've got left and looked to see the empty spaces where I used to gleam, now a faded echo of a hopeful person I was. My own growth won't fail me, surely. I'm planting my seeds on the soil I have left
