I remember when we would grow trees outside that were blue and white. We were happy when our tears would fill the bathtub and we would wash away our fears. The honey would drip from the clouds and land on our toes. Those were the

days where we would run naked amongst the souls of the dead butterflies. You were mine and I was yours. We belonged together, we belonged to each other. Like the roots belong to the trees and the sun belongs to the sky. We believed in each other; we loved each other. It was love.

One day, you changed that; you changed it all by yourself. You had no help from anyone. You fell in love with a mermaid when I thought I had found my frog to kiss, my

prince to marry. You left me alone by the river even when you had promised to fly me across. Now how was I supposed to get to the other side?

You were mine and I was yours. You belonged to me and I belonged to you. I was yours and you were mine. We spoke and promised these things, these objects, these meaningless words to each other with our fingers intertwined in the deepest of our dreams, the deepest of our oceans, with my hair, in the wind, and your lips, on my lips. But after all, how can you save a rootless tree?