close enough to touch the textured walls
frail spider legs camouflaged in mascara
lace and frills akin to delicate steel points and edges
there is a circus of distraction
what are you hiding?

shadows of brittle trees
and nightmares of windows where I shut the blinds
but vines wrap around and grow a slow death
this garden was never mine
if teeth and tongues can love and lash
then so can I