I would have given you anything.
The world on a string.
The best and bright treasures.
The intangible collection of soul
That I proudly and with awe
Pulled out and showed you
Piece by piece,
A child's show and tell.

But you couldn't see the magic
In the odd display.
The stones were just stones.
The broken toys,
The glued together heart,
The tenacious bravery,
Were all just junk.
And I was shamed.

And I tried to be whatever you needed.
Whenever.
So the tree became a river
That flowed around your every whim
With little resistance.
With eyes averted at your faults.
With unconditional mercy
For ever planned betrayal.
With acceptance for every other lover
That you loved instead of me.

And I kept few things hidden
Away from your hand.
Miniscule pieces of me,
And when I left
These became the seeds I planted.
Accepting the loss of self
While it grew.
I am not a river.
I cannot bend and bend and bend
Forever
While you harvest from me,
From the best fruits and call them bitter.

While I shy away from the kindness of others,

And hide from the concern of friends,
The questions of strangers.
Because I don't know why,
I don't know and I make the excuses to protect you.
Because you are an iccarus of a boy and you don't know your wings are melting. 

I cannot save you.

I cannot save you,

Because I am a tree 

And you, 

You are made of paper hellbent on the sun.