If I scream at all
A tree in the woods sees but
No one will hear me

We were easy soulmates
Content with comfortable silence
Two parts of a whole
Always on the same wavelength

Now we’re on different planets
Speaking different languages
And it’s hard to say for sure but
I think I lost a piece of myself when I lost you

How can I infiltrate your soul through the lines of my notebook?
How do I seep into your mind with the ink of my pen?
I’ve been piecing you together line by line,
Searching for answers.

Sometimes I forget
That my words can be used as weapons
Until they’re already sailing toward their target
Ready to explode upon impact

I am not a flower.
You won’t find me in pastels
Bees will not pay homage to my petals in this lifetime
I do not reach softly toward the sun, greeting the day.

I am not a flower.
No one wants to plant me in a garden
Or display me in a fancy vase on the table
I will not be sold in bouquets for holidays

I am not a flower: I’m a thorn.
I exist around the edges of beautiful flowers;
Their self-proclaimed eternal protector,
Ready to excavate skin on someone else’s behalf.

the moon is crashing to the ground
like we all do when things go
from warm to cold so quickly