There is a graveyard in my chest.
There is one ladder.
There are plenty of ghosts.
There are tombstones with descriptions of the things that sleep longer then sleep itself.
There are mother's crying.
There is a thin smoke circling the fence.
There are angels.
And Darlas
And Demons.
Some of them put themselves here.
Hung themselves on the tree's near the entrance.
You are the caretaker to my graveyard.
you are the caretaker of my heart.
And you stand in the middle,
holding a shovel.
Beginning to dig.
I beg you to stop.
Plant your seeds,
release yourself from this duty.
climb my ladder.
You are not like the others.
You are the one I crave.
Plant your seeds.
Plant your seeds all over.
and bathe them in water.
Break these stones with your roots.
You are the flowers in my heart.
You are the songs of the choir singing.
Turn my chest into a playground of swings hanging from trees.
Turn my chest into your chest.