Open up little flower, let me inside, I promise ill love you even if your thorns dig into my skin. Ill catch your fallen petals, cup them in my hand. Ill cherish them with all I have even if they turn brown.

I keep your secrets close to my heart
Like the necklaces we wear with memories tucked deeper inside than we've ever shared
Like a flower blossomed from us, held tightly to my chest
Genuine seeds of thought sprout as our petals are doused in golden dreams
While lust stained tips and thorns sharpen alongside the crescent moon
I pick that flower every morning and think of you.

He saw the enchanting flow'r bed.
Thought: for the girl he had wed,
That a flower he'd pick;
But was by the thorn pricked!
And stained all the white roses blood red.

- p. winter

If ever you find yourself doubting your existence,
remember that there's a reason you are alive.

Lavenders are not always in bloom,
but when they are
they become beautifully alive.
And everyone is in awe of its splendor.
Not even a king's robe can compare.

Sometimes pruning is necessary for growth.
Sometimes healing comes through rain.
Sometimes a year of drought makes you realize
how much you wanted to be alive,
and you start praying for rain.

You're almost there.
Like a lavender,
exude a strong scent
reminding everyone your time to bloom has come.

Every day she plants the starseeds
that grow into wishing flowers,
their petals fall down to the earth
and we call them meteor showers.

We beseech the celestial wanderers
and when our words reach her ears,
she makes all our biddings come true,
but each one is stained by her tears.

She yearned for one to call her own
in her garden above the clouds,
but to think of herself and not of the world,
her duty is disavowed.

And so the lonely Starwarden
only smiled on us from above.
She could not keep the wish of another
just because she wished for love.

I'm your blossom,
that flowers with beauty.
Your my water that feeds
sacred ground caressing my roots.

I’m your floret
that opens divinely
Your my sun of light
the sacred breeze that hugs with love.

I’m yours for all time.
Your mine who holds my heart.

Children like to pick apart beautiful things and leave them bare,
Simply because the destruction that lies at their fingertips is far beyond compare.
They touch the lilac sky with creation in mind
But they don't know that the light withholding their innocence has slowly died.

As children, we are the petals of a flower, lovely when in bloom
But wilted and numb once the bitterness consumes.
We are left to wonder where our innocence has gone
And we roam until our carefree days are done.

O, the vines embrace our still beating hearts,
Like the thorns that have not released us to the cold world.
I crumble beneath the lilac sky
As these fallen petals swirl.

Even the most beautiful flower
must carry the curse to wilt
and even in its dying hour
new life upon it is built.

No longer will it grace our eyes,
but through death it is still giving.
A new purpose is served through it's demise:
the chance to nourish the living.