I wasn’t made for these times
I revel in meadows, in fragile flowers of wavering petals
I lay under starry, shattering skies
Vulnerable,
Gasping
Feeling the weight of the world on my heart

I wasn’t made for these times
I live for hidden pockets of untouched soil
And brushing my fingertips against the tips of untrimmed grasses

I was made for candlelight
And fresh figs from a sprawling bush
Pungent thyme still smelling of dirt
And not concrete

I was made for azure skies
Overgrown roses
Imperfect
With thorns

I just wasn’t made for these times