Its petals unfold It retains itself in spite Covered in pollen of gold Against its consent it puts up a fight
The rain mixed with its hues Petals turn a hue of amber Not built for the muse A captivating sight, a hidden chamber
The fresh smell encapsulated me It dots my mind with soft memories Oh how flamboyant and wondrous was she Oh how the smell could hug me for centuries
Its potency erodes a painless part of the brain It eats away the layers of fleshly emotion Its poison streaming through my delicate veins It rubs itself deeply like a heavy lotion Its the hem of my church dress Its the napkin on Christmas dinner Its my bedroom walls Its my journal with blurred ink and it only gets bigger and bigger
I am open to interpretations but I have based this off the corruption of innocence