Floral aspects of my life blooming in front of me
like wallpaper memories of my pink room
The smell of loose leaf hugging a red leather binder
flourishes underneath the sunlit words
of my young maiden's hand;
Looping letters that show the romantic side of me
small caricature vowels and nouns
that reveal the private parts that are never seen
Blushing mornings that drench the violets
in that little garden where father kept his vines
Quiet evenings spent in my room
talking to a Statue, "reflection of a Mystic soul"
I was so many girls back then, but today I am only one
A seasoned writer with who lives and strives  
despite the world's demise.

Dec 15, 2021

They had to have a live tree
instead of a fake ironically.
The thing ended up killing me.
It's not big enough can't you see?
It was monstrous as it could be
but kept them quiet and happy.
I tried to lift it, was on a knee.
Help! They ignored my plea.
Coroner delivered me for free.
Moving the tree cost a hefty fee.

I still hear your voices
concerned with choices
I made while living
oddly now forgiving
live inside your shell
under the matrix spell
can you hear me running
for my precious living.