the garden you grew for me

by Jonathan Ramirez

i swore we would never fall out of love. saturdays, when we
wrapped ourselves in conversations about our future, were only
a reminder of how lucky we were to have found each other.
we became what we needed, until we didn’t.
summer skies found their way into your house,
and we were left with rain, texas heat, and many regrets.
nothing turned out the way we wanted it to.
we imagined different blue skies…

but i remember during lunch hour,
when we danced to the rumours and blamed others for our actions,
the garden you grew for me, roses blooming all year long.
we watched it flourish,
unaware of the clouds roaring across the sky,
watering our roots, feeding our growth, leading us to separate directions…

but i promise,
i will always hold my hands out for the roses you throw at me. to catch
the petals. to forget the bitter. for the mistakes that were made in the name of rage,
and the tender moments we let fade away.
all that we needed was each other, until we didn’t.
and now we stand on our own, in different corners of the world
ready to explore conversations we couldn’t afford.