As a tree, I have watched many lives. Some, I take special interest in, like the one approaching now.

​

The boy lays against the nook where I split into three. Each part grows in different directions but it's all still me. The boy brings girls here because he thinks my large tear drop leaves will hide what they do from God. They don’t know he sees through me.

 

The boy always takes them here. It’s like I know him. He sure assumes he knows me. He hangs from my arm. I creak and scream urging him to get off. The self righteous boy won’t. He wants to impress the girl. His trick doesn’t work like it usually does. Instead of ohhs and ahhs she asks him to get down. He doesn’t. 

​

If he won’t, I will make him. 

​

I sacrifice a part of me. It screams, aches, peels. The boy got my arm and a fall on the head. 

 

“That’s what you get,” the girl says. 

 

I like her. 

 

She takes him away. Now it's just me and my cover. 

 

But he’ll be back with another.