I let the flowers die,
not even batting an eyelash...
I wish I could let myself feel it.
The reality that you care...
Can we talk about how you made the unsaid, said?
You, who is so eager, wanting the best for me...
The first thing that happens is you
romanticize it, or maybe that part...
Let me be a monster.
Then I can trust...
I am the fire!
Thus...
_Why clarity reflect us perfectly?
_ Because we are picture perfect...
A cry for help
Is like a quiet whisper in the night...
One for everyone
and everyone for one, deems...
The awe of wrinkles,
will wither and desiccate...
The garden is as broad as a leaf.
Life is as darling...
Is it, a struggle of a feather
to survive its yanking and flouting...