Weeping Willow
With every labored breath.
With every beat of this broken heart.
With every fake smile, forced laugh.
The beast of burden bites down
a little bit harder on my soul,
puncturing my sanity.
In a split second rage, I am screaming,
but only loud enough for my pillow to hear.
If it had ears.
It is mid spring,
and all the trees
have donned their coat of leaves,
all but one.
My tree, my weeping willow tree,
towers above me, naked and shivering,
because I’m the one who’s weeping now.
