trees and spiteful lovers

to breath on paper.

they sat together
beneath an enormous, branched tree
standing still, silent and stale
and her hair, was shorter than ever
whatever was great and coliding within
their still very young bodies, that filled them and burst them
now witherd to the size of ashtrays.
they hardly had anything to say
they just sat sensing
the temperature
the elevated heart beat
of one another
whatever it is they use to speak
at 17
now seemed
utterly redicules
like they were
mending and rising flames
spiting forth fire
that lases
upon particles of air
to fall into ashes
last fall
he told her
that their dreams have grown too big
they colide against one another
although she knew
that what he was saying
was absolutely accurate
she
as she does
when she feels a loss so great
as if one had snatched a child out of her womb
her heart out of her chest
would cut her hair.
she grabbed her loos chestnut locs and
chopped them
immensely
through them into trashcans and whispered
"go
if you will"
in their late twnties
they are sitting
beneath a tree
her hair shorter than ever
their thoughts
collectively
falling to dirt
picked up
by wind
caressing the palms
of children
the sat
backs pressed against roots

weathering away
heavy with old age.