Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
You're not the kind of flower
People pluck and put into their hair
You're the kind of flower
People can’t bring themselves to pluck
And instead water it with their water bottle
A flower that deserves to bloom
And grow
Your fire so bright,
it takes me in.
Your warmth so tender,
it burns me within.

Heard many warnings,
still I fall.
And I’d fall again,
no regrets.

For this is where I belong.
what the 'moth' said to the 'fire flames' when it asked not to fall.
Waves retreat too far,
leaving ribs of old whales bare,
oceans gasp for breath.

Next page