Vines And Roses Poem by Leah Ayliffe

Didn't I tell you I don't care?
When home is nothing tangible after they throw you into the deep end
All you have is your mind, the only home, power, God.
Home is anywhere and no where when you are the creator.
Flower it with vines and roses that get tangled and confused
Shower it with clarity and the blood of those who walked the dirt roads before
Wise and sad like Marilyn or Cobain.
The road to dance along is at once free and a prison to the impact of feet hitting the ground
Always playing alone, alone together in the waiting
Waiting for death to find your secret place on the Earth,
the home you have made in spite of the emptiness inside.
I am my home, my true love, the only thing that's real
to be sure
When you used to breathe dreams
Like a kid on Christmas
the stories of fairy dust and flying creatures
believing in salty ocean air and sparkling beach holidays.
I listened, hard.
Tough luck to the kid who used to live on dreams
The heart slowly picked at, pulled and torn,
deformed and reformed again and again
into the lovely diamond shape it became not too far away from yesterday.
Jewels of ruby and sapphires and pearls run through veins to decorate my mind.
I never listen to anyone and they're fatal tales
I design my own in all their glory
Imagine, the world a place where I can be me and you you.
I do.
I don't even know if you're out there
but I can pretend long enough to make it true.
I don't have what people like to think of,
Not made that way,
and home is nowhere I can say out loud or point to on a map
when I am neither comfortable or at ease on this journey.
The vines in my mind are still tangled, mostly cause I keep them that way, tortured in my garden of heaven,
but the roses are blooming with a grace I never knew I had the power to grow,
and they're beautiful.