The small crack, ignored and forgotten,
Creeps her way through the seams.
They split, and it grows,
Like some vicious root that strangles its host.

They pretend not to notice,
They choke. They bleed. They love.
Whilst still she creeps,
And they ignore her.

The small gap she leaves grows,
Stimulated by the intensity of their love.
A crack or two spreads and is nurtured,
Until she becomes that empty hole, dark and cold.

Her roots suck dry the freedom they have left,
She feeds upon their love and their hatred.
She knows how they’ll move,
She knows how they’ll love.

Eventually, the gaping hole is reduced,
The wounds heal and the emptiness fills.
They find ways to love,
But the small scar of that gaping hole is the next crack,
Hiding, waiting to grow, and split along the seams.