I think I understand the leaves. I lost myself when I took root in their power, influenced over the notion that I could repair the scratches on the little vase. The red rose was still left in it, still flowered, aching slightly. It could be ironic that the sunrise and a flower indulge the same knowledge. As a beginning, each feels impending doom to insightfully address each new drop, as though a disheartening task. It probably is, but one must think that even a sad flower can participate in active recovery, right?
But maybe recovery isn't what the flower needs.
Maybe that's not what the tree needs either. It needs to end, to finally let the leaves break from the branches and flutter to a deathbed of a charitable organization. I am not saying I will end just yet, not like the tree or the rose. The rose had it's time, as did the tree. Each creature endures, and enduring is all one can do. While we may disapprove of our circumstances, we have circumstances to contemplate, which is a wonder in itself.I wonder, if we stopped breaking glass and let each thing flourish, would we see things differently than red and blue?I hate the color yellow.But I love the idea of more.
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Colors Behind the Glass ✓
Poetry[COMPLETED] Lonnie has been through several life-changing events. The most impactful is the death of their abuelita and the loss of someone close to them as they came out as non-binary. They have struggled with coming to terms with these two facts...
