Where do I go from here?
Leaf and stems don’t make a bloom.
The dormancy in me
Doesn’t realise in me lies a floret.
In the grassroots which bind me to the earth deep in my soul
Here I lie but where do I go?

I’ve had this snowflake.

Something so delicate,
pure and unique,
resting upon my open palm.

Such preciousness,
I’d never want
to lose it to the passing gale
or the spiteful sun.

So I held it in a clench.
And I’ve held it like that
ever since.

In my fist,
forever it will live.

Never again
will I hold it
in an open hand.

Because I’m afraid.
I’m afraid if I did,
then I would know,
for sure that it had gone.

That it had melted
by the warmth
of my grip
and slipped away quietly
through my fingers,
and into the night.

i wonder
what it feels like
to eat
without feeling guilty
or spending hours online
looking at beautiful girls

i wonder
what it feels like
to breathe
without feeling heavy
or seeing flawed disaster
where a temple should stand

s.s