you made your path
through the hedges
into my heart
cutting your name deeply in it
and now you say
that I am but a memory
and not a good one either
I gathered tormentil
to stop the bleeding
and I‘ll plant bramble
in place of the boxwood
convincing slowly myself
that I really, truly shan’t care
whether you still
or ever did like blackberries
that will teach you
I imagine
and maybe me