Poems about elm

Graffiti, vestige of love
Cuts marking very sign of
How I saw you then
Vandalism's when

That old elm holds a heart
Scrabbling promise to never part
Etching yesteryear
Bleeding sap sincere

Moment scorned upon tree
Traces time that never came to be
Once ever lusted yen
Now, only invocation of then

Had I never dug knife in
Happier may this arbor had been
Creeping vines overwhelm
Yours, mine, yester elm

I have tied
My heart to the tree
To play on its strings.
The notes
Hollow out the space
Like cavities.
I play on my heart
Tied to the tree
I am always a part
Of whatever you left me.

I don't remember when we stopped
Going to the grocery shop together
When the silence grew too loud to talk over
When I'd stopped trailing after you with the rattling bones of canned soup, clutching the well rusted handles of the shopping cart asyou pioneered your way
Down the discount aisles proud and dusty
Stopping to pick up another sugar laden piece of the American Dream

I do remember my first day grocery shopping alone, squeaking with my empty cart hesitantly down the aisle waiting for you to come and tell me to put back the extra box of chewy chocolate chip cookies
The scuffed tiled floors shone, the fluorescent lighting cast a dull glow and I swear I heard soft angels humming over the white noise from the refrigerators
As I headed home to our white picket nightmare, the blue bags in the backseat shone like medals, subtle victories.

Im dreamt by coincidence -
Skeleton from my daddy.

Beached monkey,
Buring forests in the alley.

The ruin of minutes,
I'll have the second hand smoked

On a clock for my owner,
In the valley i drew from your mouth.

You hug me like a cave.
I choke you like a rosary.

Grass breaks through my face
Since I'm not walked on anymore.

I'll find a haven again
If i just keep running
So i'm exhausted
To say the least,
And i haven't showered
In three days
And i am chalk full
Of adderall cause
I've been having trouble
Staying awake

Nowhere is safe
And i'm afraid to stand still
For too long,
Afraid i'm in the spot
Where the bomb
Is about to drop

Where beneath I sleep
Taller in dreams
With autumn leaves, colours to bleed
Glory because it fades away

Slowly seeping under skin
Rooted where this tale begins
I can begin to read it
Under your burning coloured eaves

Far away echoes the beating heart
To sound out longing, like a sigh
Escaping from your solemn boughs
Unhurried, unworried your goodbyes

To be as you are
Silent, quiet, calm, serene
Rooted to soil
Growing evergeen

On the old promenade
Stands the last elm tree
At the end of a row
Or politically correct sprouts.

The memory of one
Citrus summer eve
Is now petrified wood buried
Deep, deeper, deeply
In a hollow neither of us have seen
Or touched
There is ash where the fire's lickings have tossed a thousand shadows
And our story is piled a mile high
Like a tower of dark secrets
Deeply rooted
Equipped with claws and a rifle
Reality and fiction embedded in the soles
Of one another's weary
Traveler feet