Once beautiful flesh

Now, rotten and

Decomposing

Like old fruit that grows mold and shrivels up.

Blood and ice run through

These veins.

Pumping and flowing to keep this garden growing.

The future is bare,

With skin colored visions.

Pink and yellow petals

Laying nearby,

Full-bodied Begonias calling out her name,

Giving reason to walk outside.

Rain boot covered feet make their way into the garden,

Carefully walking through beds of flowers,

Of fruit and of flesh.

The screams are silent,

Muffled under dirt and mulch.

Veins and vines intertwine,

Leaking with secret obsessions.

A dirty shovel sits idle against a peeling white picket fence.

Drops of water begin to descend

From the ashen clouded sky,

Drowning her sins in red mud.

She sits on a small iron chair in her garden,

Sipping her ice coffee at six in the morning.

She sees a shadow appearing by the side of her house.

It must be you.

Are you ready to be planted?