Fill my lungs with flowers
I'm not used to coughing
but I'd gladly produce for you the seeds
So that you may see.
You can plant them in your
garden of regrets and
I'll keep a few for my own.
Who would have known?
Somethings perceived as good
in reality they were weeds
crawling up my throat.
Perhaps my little garden is comprised
of dandelions and dayflowers and
other things too small
for human adoration.
Maybe I am too too small.
Pluck the petals from my hair,
count and see-
Undoubtedly, she loves me.