Your own personal garden

You placed a crown of poisoned roses on my head, 

And a chain of hearts around my neck. 

I watched as you buried me,

Six feet under,

Dripping in your decorative jewellery.

I’d gifted you the shovel, 

Sparking clean and golden. 

You embedded the dirt of my grave, 

Into its shining surface.  

You planted the flowers, 

And watered them with my own toxin. 

You crafted an unknowing demise. 

In the shape of a silver ring. 

Molded the hot metal,  

around my very own size five finger. 

You ignored the blisters, 

The burns. 

Made by your searing tongue. 

Scarred into me in the most delicate swirls, 

Fingerprints forever branding me, 

Tarnished by you. 

Poisoned blood drips into my unblinking eyes, 

Creating irrational images, 

Of flowers. 

Jewellery.

Gardening.

And your hands, 

Never even daring to brand me.