The day you left I felt the seed
plant in my brain.
The negative thoughts of you caused it to
flourish into a ****,
one that rooted itself in my eyes,
performing dance routines in my sockets,
blurring my vision every step-ball-change,
making my eyes leak the water it tried
so desperately to drink,
drowning me in my own tears,
forcing them down my oesophagus,
gorging me with my own dismal identity,
Muffling my whimpers for help,
as it deflowers my innocent happiness,
and forces it into a pit of despair.

When people walk by me in the street,
and they see the elegant,
amber dandelion,
thriving and expanding out of my ears,
down my nostrils and out of my mouth,
they compliment me on my smile that
seems to pair so well with it,
almost as if it were made for me.
But they fail to see that it is choking me,
blocking my airways,
obscuring my vision and forcing me to the ground
with every clogged breath I breathe.
I could curse the stars and heavens for cursing me,
with the wondrous obscenity that is located under my left eye,
it grows outwards,
haunting my dreams.

It's the reminder of you.
I felt disgusted,
that I still water the plant that attacks me,
But as I watched you walk out of the door I realised
that you were happier this way.

So I am happy to make myself bleed,
as I shall do so better than any king would,
but before you leave,
trim the blooming flower that blinds my eye
and take it with you.