Cold, violet skin.
Red rose petals fall from my wrist.
The scent is pleasant.
It makes my head spin.
I spew eucalyptus leaves into the overflowing river.
Oleanders flow down my throat.
I puke out the petals, now stained red.
The river flows red as the lilypads sink.
Monkshood flowers cast shadows over my porcelain skin.
I pluck and I pluck and I pluck.
Until my fingertips are stained purple.
I lick them clean.
I weep tears that take the shape of an angel's trumpet.
They sing me a soft lullaby as they seep into my skin.
Pretty foxgloves draw me in closer.
I touch their shell and inhale their scent.
My stomach turns inside out.
Skyflower petals seep from my mouth.
I hadn't noticed until now.
That my entire body was a wilted rose.
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 3:38 AM UTC
Cold, violet skin.
Red rose petals fall from my wrist.
The scent is pleasant.
It makes my head spin.
I spew eucalyptus leaves into the overflowing river.
Oleanders flow down my throat.
I puke out the petals, now stained red.
The river flows red as the lilypads sink.
Monkshood flowers cast shadows over my porcelain skin.
I pluck and I pluck and I pluck.
Until my fingertips are stained purple.
I lick them clean.
I weep tears that take the shape of an angel's trumpet.
They sing me a soft lullaby as they seep into my skin.
Pretty foxgloves draw me in closer.
I touch their shell and inhale their scent.
My stomach turns inside out.
Skyflower petals seep from my mouth.
I hadn't noticed until now.
That my entire body was a wilted rose.
