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Withered

March 13, 2024

As my arms crisp

and the leaves of my eyes fall,

dry daisies cover my chest.

 

Despair,

rising through my spine like an umbel of flowers

choosing where to go.

 

The darkness nodding pending on the sun,

for the light is not granted to get in. Dahlias

swallowing the void, scarred flesh, shattered soul,

sadness running through like the water that carnations hold.

 

My body stripped,

as a rosette curled lying on the wet cold.

Bleeding, cupped by the hands that could never hold me,

hold me enough for me not to drip.

 

And as the mist covers my skin,

and as I let go, the warmest blue sky roots on my bones,

while the sun whispers on my ear, dandelion

it is time to leave.

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