The Weeding

A poem about thoughts, weeds, eyes, and you

Photo by Marina Vitale on Unsplash

Like any other weed,
it planted itself
out of nowhere
and slowly spread
‘round the back
of my head.

I often cleaned
and trimmed
my thoughts;
especially the shameless,
formless ones
that, if defined,
would become real
to the feel.

So this unnamed,
tenacious thought…
I buried it deep,
behind my eyes;
and covered it
with all my love
for you.

That day, you noticed
it peeking from
the side of my eyes.
So you held them wide,
with your gentle gaze,
and plucked it out.
You stared at it, and
un-judgingly read it
sadly aloud:
“Goodbye.”