Poetry

Words,

I placed you on the shelf,

in a wooden box

to lie and rest.

"Shh," I said,

"don't whisper in my ear."

I am sad and disillusioned,

I've been beaten and 

I no longer want to tend to 

your garden,

nor laugh with you,

or carry you in my soul.

Do not wake me

from my sleep to unfold beauty 

at my feet.

I have locked my doors and windows,

to keep you outside,

wash you in the rain,

bake you in the sun.

I tell you that
I won't dance with you,

and then
 I watch the crimson sun,

I feel you breathing on my skin

and I let you back in. 

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