i have grown flowers out of the marrow of my bones
i have harbored seeds from the blood that flows
i have created skies from the pain in my eyes
and i do it all for you,
my wildflower

With hidden hands,
the curtain clung to the wall
and cascaded like a waterfall
down to the floor.

Smothering the window
and draping an old side table,
rendering it derelict
- a lifeless silhouette.

Quarter way down from the ceiling,
the curtain parted just a sliver.
Allowing a lone ray to visit between
ambling clouds.

•••

One on the outside can’t fully see
the darkened workings
of a confined mind.

I, on the inside...
Can’t see past the cloth
fastened stubborn
over my weary eyes.

I am a garb.
An outfit.

I am now in season.
And in trend.
I am well loved.
Well received.

But fads pass...
What used to be the rage
will eventually fade.

What used to be sought after
will inadvertently be shelved.
And forgotten.

So wear me now.
Fill me full.
As you grow,
my sleeves would shorten.
And seams would burst.

Wear me now.
For I am your garb.
And I still fit.