Wilted

I sit under the shade of a vibrant tree,
Its petals in full bloom,
Hinting that spring is finally here.

It's the best place to be,
Away from the inside,
Where anger seeps through the walls
Like a flood,
Until mold grows within its bones.

He leaves a lot,
Storms off,
Not to be seen for days on end.

She cries from the broken words
That match her shattered heart.

You offer your comfort,
Your heart,
But it means nothing amongst
So many unfulfilled promises.

I feel trapped beneath you,
Like a puppet whose strings
Are your own hands.

I want to cut myself loose,
But I'm afraid if I do,
Those same strings
Will wrap around my neck,
Strangling me.

And as my thoughts grow ever inward, still,
The leaves above me start to wilt,
Dust sprinkling the ground
Until there is nothing left
But a shriveled spine,
As if it had never lived.