You were like a brand new table. I bought you because you looked stable and very nice. I thought you were glossy and smooth, so i ran my fingers along your surface, and I flinched as I got a blister. But the blister was a seed; you deceived me. A seed was forced in me, and I bled eight drops of blood that day. The roots sternly took their territory in me, and kept growing very slowly. I noticed my skin started to open, around my arms. The next day, there were buds on my skin. Weeks to come, lotus flowers had covered my entire body. They were tinted pink from the blood in their roots. The openings became infected but I couldn't see; the lotus covered my body. I didn't mind. It didn't hurt. You seemed as if you being a part of me had no use to you whilst I was rotting away in what I thought was bliss. You knew nothing of how much of me you infected. But it's okay, I liked it. It was different. You were different. You were my lotus infection.