Moss and Mushrooms

Clover

Some of the poems are inspired by songs/song titles. Also some random bits.
TW: Child trauma mention (general), SA undertones, addiction/substance abuse undertones

To her and him
I am sorry I ever denied you.
You are lovely, you did everything you could and you are exactly what you need to be.
I regret ever blaming you, because you never deserved that.
It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry I ever made you feel that way.
I love you. I'm sorry I left you unseen.
To her,
You are so strong, stronger than you could ever know.
As much he blames you understand that you never caused this.
I am sorry you trusted someone who hurt you.
You are wounded, not broken, lovely little girl.
One day you will realize that you are not his, that you are so much more than what he did to you.
You are good at things. You will be someone good. I won't let anyone take that away from you.
I love you. You are exactly what you should be.
I am sorry I rejected you, because if it weren't for you I wouldn't be here.
You should be proud, believe me.
To him,
I am sorry you were made to feel scared, you are so much more than scared.
I'll help you find your peace, you'll be happy one day, I know it.
It's not your fault. You're allowed to feel fear but you don't have to.
I will buy you all the stuffed animals you want.
One day someone will hold you and you will not be scared.
You two will grow to be so much more than your pain, it's okay to be hurt and scared but you will not spend your whole life that way.

Tree house home
I look at the wooden exterior of the treehouse, I look at the colorful flora and fauna, this is my home.
In days past I would have felt deeply unsettled by this, but things have changed.
This is exactly what it should be, this is all it needs to be, I wouldn't change it even if I could.
I sit and feel the sunlight on my skin, I question how I ever hated the treehouse, how could I?
I walk up the stairs and step into the grand treehouse, I feel the flowers on my hands and look at the green paint.
I step into the living room and I take a moment to watch. Isn't it lovely?
I look at my room, I see the orange floral bedspread and the sunflower garland. I look at the drawings of mushrooms and sunsets.
I look at his room, filled with stuffed animals and soft lavender walls. I run my hands through the beaded bracelets and admire the drawings in heart shaped frames.
I step into his bedroom with blue walls and paintings of clouds. I see filled notebooks stacked high and dress pants across his desk.
I walk into her room and see large paintings of sunsets. It's warm here. It's filled with every color imaginable. The room is messy with toys and drawings.
I walk through the hallway into his bedroom. I admire his nirvana posters and CDs. It's disorganized but he doesn't care. I see photos of him smiling on the walls.
His room has gray walls. I saw his stuffed bear and bed neatly made. It's elegantly held together by duct tape. His doodles fill the walls.
Her room has lavender walls. Poetry books, some written by her, some not. She has dead flowers hanging on the walls held by brown twine.
His room is a mess but he never seemed to mind. It's colorful with loud movie posters on every wall. He never painted the walls blue, they just were when he arrived.
His room is dimly lit with many plants, sometimes you couldn't tell the fake ones from the real ones. It's like a forest but it's just another teenage bedroom. Poetry is written on the walls.
His room has dark brown walls and pages from books hung up before his bed. His bed frame is made of dark wood. Books are all over the floor, dresser and desk. He has just opened his curtains to feel the sunlight.
I walk into his room filled with teddy bears and light brown wood. It's colorful and filled with plants.
Her room is pink and filled with lace. She hangs valentines day decor and little red hearts everywhere.
His room is full of empty things. He has many journal entries about how he doesn't know what he is, he hung them on the wall because he wants to be someone.
His room has banners and rainbows covering every wall. He doesn't ask if you think his art is bad because he doesn't care.
Her room is covered in my chemical romance posters. She has photos of her life on her bulletin board.
All within my treehouse home.