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GayleyPoems
I. He has a habit of picking flowers and putting them in waterless vases He plants poppies and marigolds on his bedroom floor Nettles grow where his feet fall He becomes another bloom Without sun nor rain He lies down in the green Withering II. When he is happy It feels like I'm putting my tongue to a 9 volt battery He rushes through my veins Shocking my system Sparking me up like a cigarette Giving me energy I've never known When he is depressed It's like drinking battery acid His kisses spill darkness into me My body attempts to filter the black tar Leaking from his lips There's a heaviness that doesn't go away It lingers in my chest as he does when he's happy Tiny flower buds atop Little floating feathers Growing Tickling Filling me up When he is sad They do not float 6 tons of flowers and feathers still weigh the same as 6 tons of steel Crushing Crushing Withering III. My love lies bleeding Among the green sprouting around him You cannot purge darkness Into porcelain with fingers down your throat How am I to pull these weeds Fighting the vines twisting inside me, whispering "Lie down beside him And wither too"
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Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 9:55 PM UTC
Withering
I. He has a habit of picking flowers and putting them in waterless vases He plants poppies and marigolds on his bedroom floor Nettles grow where his feet fall He becomes another bloom Without sun nor rain He lies down in the green Withering II. When he is happy It feels like I'm putting my tongue to a 9 volt battery He rushes through my veins Shocking my system Sparking me up like a cigarette Giving me energy I've never known When he is depressed It's like drinking battery acid His kisses spill darkness into me My body attempts to filter the black tar Leaking from his lips There's a heaviness that doesn't go away It lingers in my chest as he does when he's happy Tiny flower buds atop Little floating feathers Growing Tickling Filling me up When he is sad They do not float 6 tons of flowers and feathers still weigh the same as 6 tons of steel Crushing Crushing Withering III. My love lies bleeding Among the green sprouting around him You cannot purge darkness Into porcelain with fingers down your throat How am I to pull these weeds Fighting the vines twisting inside me, whispering "Lie down beside him And wither too"
#depression#eating#disorder#life#death#symoblism#flowers#relationship#empath#empathy
Written by
Gayley
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 9:55 PM UTC
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