She reached her arm out for miles
as she tilted her head up for acres
and opened her mouth to scream,
though nothing more than a
subtle exhale made its way out.
Her skin was rough and wooden
like bark, and the hair on her head
tangled in and around itself
in natural patterns like branches.
Secrets of her heart were unknown
to her mind the way that clouds
do not tell the sky if it shall rain.
Her feet that hardened to stone
began to discolor, turning yellow
as the seasons came and went.
Soreness ran through her soul
like an echo across a glen
and she tried opening her mouth to scream,
though vines woven tightly
sealed the space between her parted lips
and clung to the lids of her eyes.
She could not blink, nor close her eyes
and pretend like she was back
in the comforts of the life she knew.
It became a privilege that she could
still cry, as warm tears formed
in her ever-open eyes that could
no longer hold their secrets.
She ran from love into the forest of regret,
turning her back on the problems that she had caused
and with secrets in her heart,
but got ensnared by the charms that
beheld the forest where
she was forced to reveal her heart and her eyes
and the secrets that they concealed
while becoming filled with and one with
the forest of regret.


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