I Water My Garden with Tears

Something inside of me is dying

I killed it to let my wings grow.

I feed it the bloody parts of me

and hope there's enough left to make me whole.

I sprout feathers,

murdering thoughts of you,

feeding the fires of my rebirth.

I fertilize my dreams with you.

Our past, the mulch that binds us,

and so I burn for you,

but not with lust,

or rage,

with the desire to do better,

be better,

but, for myself.

You don't exist in this new portrait of me.

I burn every page of memories and songs and when the ashes cool I scoop what remains and feed it to my future.

You are not the man that will break me,

for that is an impossibility in my new definition of self.

I statements are for people with a future,

and I will be fine without you.

I fly without you,

and will find what makes me happy and whole and I'll build a life completely apart,

and I'll remember you as that guy whose ashes fed the tree that grew the wood that I built my first house from.

So let me thank you for your contribution,

for today is the last day that I water my garden with tears.