My flower
is not beautiful
it has weathered over years
the first hands to touch it
bruised it with fears

My flower
is Not Innocent
over time it grew thorns
many of manhood it has
unapologetically torn

My flower
is not vibrant
petals have been plucked
what remains is dull
And covered in muck

However,
Rejoice

My flower
is still growing
Learning to water it daily
Reaching for the cosmos
And becoming heavenly.

I want you to want me. But I don't want it blindly, or full of grandiosity.
I am willing to work for you. To build something new... if that's what you want to do. At times my ideas are a childish. It's a defect that I can admit. But honestly, I've grown a bit. Sometimes I want to question your motives, and mentally wrestle what my role is. However, I know that behavior is erosive. Sometimes I want to ask if you're just playing, if your language is crafted or just what you're saying. However, that's a game of shaming . I won't let my insecurities cause this to ruin. Because I don't want your golden token. I really just crave your human. I want you to show me your brusies and scars, up close and personal, not from afar. And in my mind, write your memoirs.

Quietly I sit upon the sails
Quietly I wait for morning bells
Quietly I see what you don't tell

In the morning sun will truly rise
In the light hopes and fears will die
In the wild hear a pleasant cry

Walk until our debts are paid in full
Walk until we turn to lovely fools
Walk until the air is nice and cool

Sit and bask in the chilly breeze
Sit and rest tattered toes and knees
Sit and wait then those worries leave

Remember to do just what you're told
Remember not to follow your own soul
Remember we can easily be sold.

By the night these notions will fall
By the night hear the owl's call
By the night discover what you saw

People think flowers are for the spring
People think wasps only sting
People think it's all about the ring

There's a fire that burns inside of us
There's a love better than any lust
There's a home worthy of your trust

Upon awakening
I was short of breath
(maybe from getting over a cold)
And the fog, in it rolled.

Even the Earth
Was struggling to concentrate
(Like a cosmic child, she pouted)
Her mind, it was clouded.

The air is brisk,
The sun was hiding,
(We all need rest sometimes)
And poets can run out of rhymes.

Today is the day,
Your body will return to her
(Is Earth sad, or just preparing)
And the mortals are left staring.

Back to Mother
Your journey is ending
(Or has it just begun)
A child of love, you no longer run.

Sleep tight
The heavens are your playground
(Save energy to dance with stars)
Only in death is the Universe ours.