grow in sun and heat
makes  an outstanding perfume            
delightful freesia

The only lipstick fit for real woman is
The glorious gore-red
Of her hearts' blood,
Painted with trembling fingers parting
Too early, of course,
While the parting still pains.
For remember, when love is dying
Nothing can save it
No sunsets, no flowers, no forest walks
No quantity of spearmint candy
No smiles, no coffee, no cigarettes
Even old jokes or magic words
Like "remember, the first time we…"
Or "do you speak Dutch";
No freesia candles burning
No cranberry lemonade, even with love potion
Can mend it.
No sewing our clothes together murmuring,
"Follow me as the thread follows the needle"
No wishing, no crying,
No phone calls,
No desperate words of love,
Not even if you both hold your hands
Conjuring last spring back;
Not even marriage,
Not even that.
Only your heart's blood can keep
The rose alive for a while
Over the dark frame
While the black-and-white photograph
(Pity that flies don't respect it)
Fades.

Silver ferns grow in a meadow of furiously bright flora,
Cosmos,
Freesia,
Roses of red and white,
Grow freely,
Wild below the pristine marble pedestal sitting center the clearing,
Within,
A,
Delicately wound cage calmly sits a equally small bird,
Breathing in the sweetness of the meadow,
Fluttering peacefully,
Their talons rest atop the door,
Of,
Its Gilded Cage.

I sow the seeds
And water them well
With lots of feed
their little buds swell

I plant them out
in perfect soil
I watch them grow
So big and tall

And when the flowers are open wide
I cut them long, take them inside
In a vase they go, by the fireside.
To fill the air with scents of rose
of daffodil, lily an freesia too
My only wish ? I have but one
That i had someone to give them too.

"To The Men, I have Loved and the lessons I have learned."

To the boy who hid in the shadows:

You taught me how to plant the flowers of love.
You showed me the colors and the different names
moreover, you taught me how to tend to them all.
Then I learned you lied to me and told me all the wrong names
so now my garden is twisted and confused.
You then left taking my Freesia’s in hand.

To the boy who hid in the trees.

You went garden to garden, loved to plant the first seed.
You taught me how the roses moved in the night.
However, you stilled lived in other gardens and took my roses.
You left my garden with patches of nothing
and made me feel like I deserved it.


Now my garden; already struggling to stay alive.
What was I do? I was already so sad.

Then to the boy who lived in the spotlight:

You came to my garden with roses in hand
promising to help restore what had been lost
for your garden had been plucked as well.
However, you only came for what was left of my roses and took my elderflowers as well.

You only cared for yourself.
And well you,
you taught me not to trust anymore.

So for the next boy who comes to my garden.
Come with a sword and a shield.
Because now I’ve learned how to grow my flowers with thorns.
So I’ll guard my garden until the day I learn which flower is love.