flowers blooms with sunlight
oxygen
and love.
you had none of those,
metaphorically.
but the petals that bloomed
from your pale, tired body
were the most beautiful
i had ever had the chance to see.
i tried to love you
but you were exceptionally
great at pushing people away
so i left you alone
for a long time.
your flowers disappeared
your petals wilted
and you looked terrible:
then you called me
and as we talked
flowers bloomed from my speaker.
YOU ARE READING
poetry
Poetrypoetry is when an emotion has found its thought, and the thought has found words -robert frost. all poems are mine unless stated otherwise. just thought i'd give someone a taste of my mind. #4 in ode
