The Tree Of Thorns

Run Forest, Run #11 -April 7, 2019

You can't hear anything.

The hummingbird's tune echoes in your skull.

The wolf comes back and visits.

You try to talk but she doesn't try to keep conversation.

Maybe the thorns are choking you too much.

Maybe she can't hear you.

You scream.

She doesn't react.

You cry for help.

She turns a blind eye.

You plead for mercy.

She doesn't care.

You go over every reason

As to why she left you.

Why she told you it was over.

And yet she's perfectly fine.

She never cared about you.

You hold back tears all the time.

You hide them from her.

You don't want her to worry.

But then again,

How can she worry when she doesn't care?

True.

But the thing is,

You're scared.

You're weak.

You'll never be enough.

She hates you.

She's just trying to cushion the blow by

Slowly-

Ever so slowly-

Removing herself from your life.

She never wanted you.

She never needed you.

You're just a nuisance.

You're worth less than the dirt on her feet.

But you still care.

You can't stop thinking about her.

You can't stop crying.

Stop being a depressed fuck and

Pull

Yourself

Together.

You can't.

It's impossible.

At least she's still talking to you.

But you wonder if that's a good or bad thing.

You wonder what if the moment she sees you choking on these dreaded thorns,

Trapped once more inside the tree,

Flowers surrounding every waking thing you do,

Hummingbirds buzzing in your skull,

And the roots that tie you down in place in the center of it all,

She'll run.

She'll finally run away.

She'll finally hate you completely.

She'll finally want nothing to do with you.

She'll run, and you'll never see her again.

Her brown eyes and rare smile.

Your sunshine, your everything.

Gone.

Forever.

It's only a matter of time.