Flower Blooms

Fairytales I live for the ‘Once upon a time’ moments of life, the romanitification of things otherwise mundane.  The rose colored affect is  a derivative of loneliness  cut with lust and desperation quantified by gasps of longing This affect, this derivative Is then matched by the feeling of love And all its alliterations, diverging from its root.  Pure, Tempestuous, forbidden, broken  Full, and yet still very empty. 

At Night, I Drop I am at the point passed depression where the blackness of my emotion is no longer a color but a void of an overwhelmingly narcotic pit of despair and exhaustion.  Every sweet moment  turns to salt then burns like an acid.  At night I lay naked in a bathtub filled with lukewarm water Staring at the soap scum between And around the cold white tiles.  I drop a bath bomb. But instead of flowers and fragrances it explodes with  sharp knives and rusty scissors and stains the water crimson.

Reduction I often think about  our fake infatuation our false love                         At first We bloomed and birthed our own universe Planting what ifs Harvesting what is Consuming the what will never be                                  The Beginning The Middle  And The End of Us A violent reduction.

Sanctuary I knew this would happen. I knew that if I let this go on too long, things will change.  Your place in my world has shifted and settled into a space where the idea of us has no limit. The sanctuary I built for you is like a steamy cavernous hot spring that smells of jasmine, lilacs and warm vanilla.  The sediment of the Earth glitters gold there. I colored my sanctuary pink and kept the walls tight to keep you in it a little longer.  I knew this would happen.  I knew that I will always be the one who feels this more, I need you more than you need me.  Despite my commands, I am chained to this circumstance of convenience.  Lie to me and tell me that you too made a sanctuary.  Lie to me and tell me that you filled it with all the beautiful and delicate things in life. Lie to me, and say that I’m worth that kind of, appreciation.  Lie to me, and say, love. 

America, the Beautiful. America, America, God shed his grace on thee. America, did you know that  The story of how this country came to be was written half assed and unfinished.  Truth is God had always shed his grace on the land we claimed as America.  We are a body of people who choose to be United despite the sins of our past, as a body of one, we are trying to make peace with what we cannot change.  As a people we have a common spirit expressed in a variety of translations.  Our story of who we are and how we came to be, is one of Grit. Perseverance. Set-backs. Wins. Pitfalls and Losses.  Together as a body of one.  All of us, choosing to be United while we continue to    strive for a more perfect Union.