Scorched

I put my love out in the sun

In the high light of midday

It's getting scorched,

Widely seen,

The ends crack.

Here is the plan:

When it is too brittle to keep its form

It'll resemble our interactions.

When it's too brittle to keep its form

I will grind it into dust

We don't agree at all 

About what we're looking at

The soft before

Was an affront...to you.

I will take the dust 

To the trees you planted in me.

I will till the soil there,

High hopes of what it can be.