AN ESCAPIST'S REPRESSED DESIRE | poetry

hanahaki pink **

tw: anxiety, panic attack

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was rereading "nicotine perfume and cello preludes" and i wanted to use the whole "like hanahaki morphine flowers/filling my lungs/emptying my heart" as a prompt! except this time it isn't about romance.

(hanahaki disease is a fictional disease that happens when people are experiencing unrequited love, wherein flowers grow in the lungs. fics with this trope usually have a tragic ending)

-

I.

it starts with a single pink petal,
and i'm sure i'm going mad. maybe i am
maybe it's just all in my head but i swear i saw it.
it's so small and delicate,
just the way flowers are meant to be.
how pretty.
i am definitely being delusional again.

more and more petals
fall into my frosted hands as i walk on.
i'm so tired.
pink! pink!
pink!
pink!
pink!

i feel them piling up in my lungs now.
berry blossoms wilt into nothing
but briery thorns
they're twisting and turning,
i feel the pollen coursing through my veins
infecting my body,
numbing the corners of my existence
i'm counting
my breaths
just keep walking now. it'll be fine.
it's just in your head.

but they're real!
and they're everywhere.
so bright that my eyes hurt.
pink! pink!
pink! pink!
pink! pink! pink!
pink!

i walk. i stop. i'm here.
i'm hiding behind people who are speaking
in purple prose,
i don't understand a word.
i'm here and sitting now!
and now i think i'm the one decaying,
choking on blotches of rose
which are drenched in the same poison ivy
i'm now bleeding and crying.

help me!
i'm weeping petals
i'm breathing petals
i'm heaving petals

am i dying
is this real

FUCK THERE'S SO MUCH
pink! pink! pink! pink! pink!
pink! pink!
pink! pink! pink! pink!
pink! pink! pink!
pink!

i don't know why.
i just want to know why
but the hanahaki flowers
they're filling
my lungs
they're emptying
my heart
so quickly
i think this is it.

please
i just want to be okay
i like pink
and cherries
flowers too
they're lovely
oh.
pink! pink! pink! pink! pink! pink! pink!
pink! pink! pink! pink!
pink! pink! pink! pink!
pink! pink! pink!
pink!

II.

fine.

the thorns have stopped clawing at my ribs.
i'm not dying, not now,
but perhaps that's a worser fate,
for the mind remembers each of its dizzying deaths.

i'm not dead, i can feel the way gentle rising
and falling of my shoulders
steadies each shallow breath.

look,
(i'm still seeing flowers)
look, i'm breathing fine!