Somewhere within myself there is an oasis. A haven to escape to. Where a lush valley with fragrant flowers and a babbling brook flows quietly in the background. The area of this oasis was a much larger place at one time. Where I could kick off my shoes and feel the grass beneath my feet. Inhaling the intoxicating aromas of exotic fauna that had flourished. To maintain this place beholden to myself was simple, a few moments of happiness. The more bliss betwixt my existence, the more fervently my garden bloomed.
Now when I attempt to escape to my secret hideaway, the smaller and smaller it seems. Once the edges were permeated with new growth and shoots of soft blades. Traipsing along the borders of my retreat I am astounded by the emergence of dried patches of ground. The soil that was once rich is now arid and cracked. The desolation is encroaching. How long before this harborage is completely overtaken?
With your tutelage my conservatory once throughly covered all the expanses of my soul. Now that you have taken that away, how am I to maintain this on my own? Your love was the fodder that my garden drew upon for its hunger. I believe that soon there will be nothing left but a small patch of weedy grass where a single rose blooms. The petals of the rose slowly curling and becoming brittle with the lack of sustenance. I shall stand in that spot and gaze upon my desolate heart.
