the coffee had been a dark roast, which wasn't usual for him. however, he had to be alert. therefore the deep aroma of addicting bittersweetness filled the air. another bouquet had shown up at his door step. he thought it rather odd and deceiving to have received a bouquet twice in a row,, two days apart without seeing the sender.
when it had arrived, he had no idea. the petals still seemed considerably fresh. it was strange and a bit frightening. but, something else in him, almost liked the mystery. he supposed it shouldn't have been that odd, being a considerably well-known writer. the poetry of another language he did not understand. the small descriptions encrypted into the little cards. it enticed him.
the green was lively,
its leaves looking like art itself.
dreams and life,, neither taken lightly.
as if hiding something,
intricately woven,
always throwing off what was chosen.
softest trees, most fragile hearts,
always to end where it starts.
little suns bursting into nebulae
how could one forget something
so extraordinary?
for when one is to lay,
it soothes the soul,
kissing the eyelids,
attempting every goal.
pray thy centers send the message,
you are the sun
my mind embraces you,
let this moment not be so interim.
how breathtaking,,
van gogh's starry night stars
first petals before the making.
prettiest swirls,
stunning as honey,,
prettiest swirls,
bright and cheery.
the sun coming daily,
that is what each petal represents.
and for that, there is
no need to repent.
❛blue violets, for sincerity❜
with a little drawing of such,, water color outlined with marker.
❝maidenhair fern,, forget-me-not,, and yellow zinnia❞
YOU ARE READING
Thief of Flowers
Random「but you, what did you ever give?」 little stars,, clustered up in a dark bunch; beautiful little clouds hugging what is wished. vivacious and poisonous,, the best combination,, tears will always be shed. gradient from rays to matter,, that is wha...
