You asked me to make you something so I did the best I could – here I am, teeth bared, hands cracked and dry and open for you. Behind me is this thing I created: these skyscrapers with leaves; the reservoir that reads your mind. You said You made that? and I said Yes and you said I want to become part of it so I did that for you too and when the roots took hold of your body I knew I had had this dream before and it always ended the same way: underground. Drowning in the dirt of it all. Me, alone at the end, in the middle of a forest I called a city so I could pretend I built it with my two hands. This is no one’s fault but my own. Sorry I couldn’t be soft for you.