Ten thousand flowers
Laminated, cold pressed on my window door
Plastered- blue white and yellow

Sing me a song, I like the way your voice bellows.
Ten thousand flowers
Falling, as her dress hits the floor

None of them are real
Im just sitting here, passing the hours.
Ten thousand flowers

Peaches
     /Tuesday/
Kingdom- Plantae
Genus-Prunus
Symbolism-softness, tenderness, but grounding in reality- foreboding my fantasy.

Used in prose:  peaches, with her plumpness, with her skin pressed against mine, seperated only by my budding insecurity. When will you go, will I be fine?
    If you are a peach, dangling from a tree, and I am only, A flower or the leaves. When will you drop? When will you plummet and with it, I wither and decay.
   If only I were a willow tree, no ornament linked, or if you could be plucked early, before sour becomes sweet?

squeeze the bottle tightly
Someone said don't go quietly.
Trace the vein
I feel something, but only slightly.