You cannot heal me with your broken words,
smothered by your good intentions all renewal withers.

I shall be well
when the taste of life explodes in my heart
like sherbet on a tongue.

I am not your responsibility, I am my own
I cultivate my own garden
and what pleases me shall flourish
you cannot decide what I should keep
that choice is mine
and with it I will find redemption.

© ceenoa