Let’s bury the hatchet
We can’t cut down the past
So let’s take rest in its shade
And tear up the roots
For clinical examination
Of the scars that match our hearts
Or the marks made in the trunk
Carving here lies forever
That love that love that love
Made against a rainbow headboard
While the world rained upon us
Dimensia unfolded like fruit peels overripe
Amongst a forest of fallacy in plastic
This tree imperfect is yet ours
Alive and bleeding
Forgiveness is a practice
And love is a verb
—- This tree will grow.