Amaranthine (Poetry)

The Poet and Her Flower Boy

Do you know the story
of the poet and her flower boy?

She had blue ink creeping up her veins
and paperdust filling the lining of her lungs
with an unbeatable word dependency
that left her fingers bleeding
after days of trying to make the syllables fit the sentences.

He had these beautiful pressed flower eyes
(forget-me-nots, he later taught her)
with ivy climbing his frame
and chlorophyll colouring his blood green.

He could always be caught outside
sitting in the sun with his photosynthetic lungs.

She taught him how to read and write when they were younger
and he taught her the language of flowers.

There are 26 letters in the English language,
roughly 171 476 words in current use,
alstroemeria is the flower of friendship
and the daisies she adored so much
meant innocence and purity
(fitting, he'd think to himself,
staring at her sweet smile)

He'd leave her bluebells at her door
and she'd think he meant gratitude
but confessions of love were hidden in the petals.

She was his Summer queen
and he her evergreen muse
but neither knew how else to tell the other.

It came to a point where both were losing hope
and her porch was strewn with anemone
and her journals were filled with tear stains
and desperate words scratched in the margins.

Until the day she heard knocking
and when she opened her door
he stood there with tears in his eyes
and a dozen red roses clasped in his hands
(he'd reverted back to the barest of basics
even though it pained him)

And with a simple "I love you, too"
the story came to an end.