Stitches

They stuck me together with craft glue,
and assured me that I would remain sane.
They said that I could stand up alone again,
each stitch they sewed burning black into skin.
But you came along soon after and unpicked,
you ripped each seam apart with your hands.

It burdens me so

It weighs like a burden swinging off a hook,
so my heart feels the drag towards the earth.
My utter hypocrisy is like a badge of disgrace,
weighing down each and every step I take.
I want to hide my face in shame from the light
and cover myself with the dark deeds of others.
The sense of doing complete and utter wrong
twists my entire being into painful agony
and dogs the steps I take to escape from the truth.

Wilt

Forget the wilting plant sitting in the shadows,
in the corner and so dull amongst the vivid
colours of the orchids and sunflowers pointing
towards the brilliance of the midday sun.
She leans in the damp corners of the garden,
hoping to be noticed and yet, dreading to be.
Her leaves have shriveled up and a dusty coat
covers her completely as her ashen petals fall,
and she fades into nothingness as the days go by.

In the wrong

You held my hand underneath the cover of night,
it felt so wrong, but oh, so right.
We flirted with danger knowing that to be caught
would mean the end of this lustful love affair.
It was the seductive rush of pure adrenaline
each and every time we collided in the dark.
I was supposed to be a mere summer fling, a toy,
but you caught a hold of me anyway with your touch
and now I cannot think to let you back to her again.