How can I speak to you,
With the black thorn growing in my throat,
Or the rosemary I hold too tight?
My bones scattered among periwinkle,
Rest in delicate jonquil.
I offered you my friendship,
A bouquet of lilacs in disguise.
You return only white roses,
Petals turned brittle over time.
I send you my best dahlias,
Blooming pink and orange,
...with no response.
What did I do wrong?
Oh, if you would give me two daisies,
I'd throw out my old meadow saffron.
How can I speak to you,
With your withering gaze?
Dec 4, 2025
Dec 4, 2025 at 12:07 AM UTC
How can I speak to you,
With the black thorn growing in my throat,
Or the rosemary I hold too tight?
My bones scattered among periwinkle,
Rest in delicate jonquil.
I offered you my friendship,
A bouquet of lilacs in disguise.
You return only white roses,
Petals turned brittle over time.
I send you my best dahlias,
Blooming pink and orange,
...with no response.
What did I do wrong?
Oh, if you would give me two daisies,
I'd throw out my old meadow saffron.
How can I speak to you,
With your withering gaze?