In the skeletal frame of a fence,
nestled deep in the overgrown wiring,
Where vines wind up and veins wrap down:
a ribcage, constructed by their love, nurtures love.
Nestled far too deep,
to find a way out,
The heartbeat of petal and blood restless
when they can clime no more.
Trapped,
adoration settles within layers of spines and thorns,
The ribcage, meant to house love, choking their love.
How much until it constraints, constricts, and
bursts apart in bloom?
Posted in response to the challenge Spring: Writing Contest.
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