Your Garden Bloom

 I couldn't be the person I would need to be to keep you here. I am unable to be your church in your times of need and your nobody during times of greed. You, I could plainly see, are now watering the roses you planted. Not giving time enough to bloom and blossom, only ever wounded by the might of thorns before self-fully self-lessly blaming the very protector of your growing beauty and desire of nowness lead you to retreat from your own garden. To seek result before outcome. To choose another already colored blossom of hidden thorn. One that waits, for your fool grasp and heavy hand of saught victory before victoriously awarding your choice of nowness and sinking each hidden barb into your softnessess still brightly colored in bloom. No blame, no retreat, no disgruntled abandon for this surprise constant of nowness? Hiding agony of bloom in hand vibrantly you showcase all visible beauty. Allowing mistaken tears for their opposite of falling. Kept it you did without a traveling thought of existence of before, in your own garden, now only to be watered with each squeezing of your nowness blossom stained with each drop of your heartbeat flow deeply reddening the outcome of what you had left behind, even before blossom of bloom, oh angry wound, thorns successful of their own desire to assure your garden would yeld all your own self had sown. Cast away for public display of the agony of nownessess beauty and blooming blossom. To touch to smell these are not the spoils of your nowness bloom to fill the heart with beautiful beats replenishing each red watered drop shared is not for the nownessess for they having never experienced steady hand shared sunbeams or long moment's of silence while speaking daily to another not the nownessess they are fastpicked and can only give what they've received, much like the hidden Barb's at your quick unsolicited grasp, never will a nowness sit an enjoyable spell in the time of eternity sharing your investment in another's garden.  As your own bloom soaked your stained waters, strained for the nourishing rays once heavy in the garden now only peeking in as a memory in your garden, and pulled straight and tall and single standing proudly knowing it had grown beyond thorn beyond wound beyond pain or fear. Fully blossomed, brightly reddened, bursting for moment's of sharing in the beautiful fullness of times silent gift of existence encouraged by your leaving of your garden bloom andwith the memories of paradise praises when your own hand tended your garden blooms. The season has changed and your wondering of your protected bloom you never held, and the hidden barb scars covering your flesh, and if there is still time to glimpse in your garden and caress the bloom you planted halfway. The love of blooms memories of the love you once had gave grew your gardens blossom fully to a forevers rose. Always standing tall, always in the garden, always receiving nourishment from forevers memories, and forever wondering where loves memories ran to, and how many forevers in your gardens unattended memories till the hand that so kindly fed one drop of love per thorn would return to embrace in forevers moment's together in silence.