He gave me dead flowers
So I can smell them every day
The rotten petals falling
The color of decay

The washed out sunflower
The dehydrated leaves
The mold on the water
The color of debris

The richly red rose
Now drooping to the floor
The color of love
Existed no more

But still I saved the flowers
And smelled them every day
And watered them with tears
To let them grow again.

I am sick of running away
From the rain
And at the same time
I am being a fool
Because the rain
Can't hurt me
And also I don't
Want to end up soaked
From the rain
because I don't want to get sick

He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come

Some days I am hideously alive

Decomposing memories

Deeply trenched in manipulation

****** noses and broken hearted…

dark circles and scabbed over

clotting and bruised

Festered wound pushing out poison.

Some days I am defective, calloused and weak

Some days I am gnawing and farel

Less human and more lizard

Puckered scars and blistered skin

Healing isn't always pretty

Some wounds get infected

Bones have to be reset…

Abscesses drained

I survived…

But I don't have the same skin

You wouldn't recognize me

I'm breathing

Some days that hurts