a metaphor |
loving you is dying, slowly. it’s all the flowers of the world layering their scents over each other until I choke, my throat swelling, my ears ringing, my voice silenced in a surfeit of you. it’s an explosion of petals their colors careening across the insides of my eyes— you’ve turned bouquets into an excuse to never say you’re sorry. you’ve turned the world outside in, and beauty rubs my vision like sandpaper. I hunger for your absence— for peace, but you cling to me, as close as a corsage, pinned into my skin. I would bathe in stinging nettles, would line our bed with rose thorns and red tinged ivy, would rub my skin raw, just to see you bleed with me. but in your rocky heart, nothing can grow. line count: 32 chosen words: flower market/ anger Prompt for: Jan 25, 2016 ▼ |