people come into your life and grow on you like wild flowers.
sometimes they grow upon your skin, present but not deep,
others will grow so so so far down, their roots will rupture your skin and wrap themselves around your brittle bones.
eventually growing through the vena cava of your heart, reaching deep inside the vital chambers.
and these people, no matter how hard you may try,
you cannot rid them from your heart, they will always be there, growing deep inside of it,
feeding off the oxygen in your blood. even their flowers and foliage may wither with time but their roots will always exist, the blood from your heart running through them.
you will never cease to love these people,
for to pull out the roots of these flowers would rip your entire heart out of your chest,
and though that might hurt less than the roots these people may leave,
the only possible result is death.
Nov 13, 2018
Nov 13, 2018 at 9:49 AM UTC
people come into your life and grow on you like wild flowers.
sometimes they grow upon your skin, present but not deep,
others will grow so so so far down, their roots will rupture your skin and wrap themselves around your brittle bones.
eventually growing through the vena cava of your heart, reaching deep inside the vital chambers.
and these people, no matter how hard you may try,
you cannot rid them from your heart, they will always be there, growing deep inside of it,
feeding off the oxygen in your blood. even their flowers and foliage may wither with time but their roots will always exist, the blood from your heart running through them.
you will never cease to love these people,
for to pull out the roots of these flowers would rip your entire heart out of your chest,
and though that might hurt less than the roots these people may leave,
the only possible result is death.
Request permission to use this poem