Tw: mentions of blood and well, eventual death.
It's my fourth capsule of medicine for the day,
It may be the last but I can't really say.
Every time my lungs tighten up,
I need a drug in my body to stop a hiccup,
In my breathing. And sometimes I wonder if I might,
Cough up some blood, or a lung in the night.
Maybe even a flower petal or two,
Anything but confessing my love for you.
And the lines blur between my feelings and disease,
Every breath that I take doesn't put me at ease.
And every second I'm awake rots my life,
I cry, I cry, but never outside.
Strangled voice, I can't talk, I'm choking on flower stems,
Red rimmed eyes, turning to stones, they look like ruby gems,
I see your eyes, cough out a flower, my smile is pained,
Blood dribbles out of my mouth, hanahaki, my love is drained.
YOU ARE READING
Hanahaki
PoetryA poem about the fictional disease, Hanahaki. "Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowerin...
