Wasted Trees and Words Unspoken

peace in purple flowers

i used to frolic.

i used to frantically pick
purple flowers
from the field that was our front yard.

i used to flap my oversized sleeves
at the sight of your frame
finding its way
to the far right of our house,
our family's home.

i used to find
the feel of "momma" from my mouth
and your forehead kisses
and fondness of your voice, saying
"thank you, princess,
how did you know
that purple is my favorite color?"

so peaceful.

but the purple flowers i used to favor
now bring forth foggy memories
and forge further frustration
with my feelings about you
and the fracture on my heart
that has made me so fragile
and fearful of the words you say.

the purple flowers i used to flaunt,
painted for you for mother's day,
fit so perfectly in your room.
fortunately, it was the one room
you never forced me against a wall in.

those purple flowers i used to figure
meant forgiveness and faith
were now frayed, and i was a fool.

so...fuck those purple flowers...