My love used to spread out like branches
reaching upwards towards the sky
giving shade throughout the summer
and a place to keep you dry
so all the city's children
built a treehouse 'round my spine
and though they never asked me
I still told them I was fine
they etched their names with knives
along the edges of my bone
a handwritten reminder
I was always theirs to own
despite the pain they brought me
upwards I still grew
thinking if you love someone
it's the least you can do
but as the kids turned into adults
and the winter grew cold
I wept sap from their carvings
for they weighed too much to hold
and the men all thought my branches
were to help their fires start
and without a single 'thank you'
put a chainsaw through my heart
YOU ARE READING
Unspoken Poetry
Poetry⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ if any of the tagged things are sensitive to read about or makes you feel uncomfortable, please do not read! I'd hate to be the reason you feel either way.
