I fell in love with the Creme-colored orchid wrapped around my thick branches. I fell in love with the way it twirled itself around my entire being. I loved how I could give it everything I had, and the orchid always accepted it. I could be myself. I could tell it all my secrets. I nourished it. And then, one day I looked at my branches while the orchid slept. My thick, awesome branches had shrunk into frail sticks. The orchid took everything it could from me. It sucked away at any life I had, and left me with nothing. As I faded away, it continue to feed off of me without returning a single drop of nutrients.
It fed until I was nothing.
YOU ARE READING
The brain is a machine
PoetryThe brain is a machine when fed creativity Let it paint us a picture
