Friendship is like a flower
Time is a factor
Both have to grow
That’s something you know
You’d think it a quiz
It to often is
Sometimes they’re happy
Oh, and sappy
Eventually it dies
Full of lies
And once it's gone
What a yawn
Both wilt away
Not here to stay
Although we do yearn
“Will you return?”
They go away
No longer here
Faded to grey
How utterly rotten
when I was a girl
my mother would make me
pull weeds in the garden
and I hated to pull them
to me at least,
the weeds were prettier
than the roses in her garden
I know if she let them
grow wild and free
they would kill off the roses
I guess I kinda
felt bad for the weeds
getting plucked from the ground
and tossed to the side
just so this average flower
could look more beautiful
cause who didn't like a rose?
I guess I felt bad
because I never really
felt like a rose
and had always been
treated like a weed
So many times before I sat there watching
Waiting, vegetating, it's so aggravating,
Waiting for this hell to freeze over.
I am in an ice box, I guess that's good as long
As it's inside a place I live, because then at least
I get to pace around or dream as is.
You sit there patting me on the head like I'm a stupid dog,
"There there, you'll get over your dreams. We all had to
At one point." I'm supposed to just sit here and feel golden,
This my darkest hour, the only thing I have left is that
I'm here where I can be a "pretty flower," but still I feel
I have no future with all of my dreams stolen.
I would give anything but to feel the fires of youth and life,
Now I get to be whatever else and poor as I am "free."
One man's trash is another man's treasure, indeed...
Have you ever stared death straight on, in the eyes of the one whom you loved?
I cannot steal her anguish or her scars. I can't stop the blood from flowing.
How do you continue to breathe when your angel has been damned to hell?
What if these shaky hands cannot grasp all that she contains?
Flowers aren't often meant to bloom in winter; you did nothing wrong.
Selfishness overcomes compassion and obsession is mistaken for love.
Death makes no man wait, and I can't stop the aim of a trigger that has already been pulled.
you were just a seed
I planted, expecting only a flower
but then you provided me a garden
you were so beautiful
but I must not pull you out
for your stem will droop
and your petals will die
so I watered you with care
handled you till you bloomed
ever so lovely—
till it was too much for me to bear
your roots, I ought to pull out
but you've been struck deep
into the surface of my skin
later suffocating me with your vines,
wrapping around my chest
so I will just wait for summer to pass
for then like the autumn leaves I fall
and these feelings will run dry
till it is too cold for you to grow
into the winter's unbearable ground
dear future lori, it's sunday.
you used to hate me at sixteen.
i have a message from
your future self at nineteen.
she's doing good today.
dear past lori, it's sunday!
i have travelled somewhere far.
i don't have to go to school
tmr. i'm snacking in a car
on 145g of almonds un-guilty.
dear past fear, it's sunday.
i've let go of you. i have enough.
i ate Bonne Maman Raspberry
Preserves and didn't even worry
about how much money I had.
dear past desires, it's sunday.
i'm living the words you used
to dream. you were always a
better dreamer than a believer.
you denied self the good things.
dear past self esteem, it's sunday.
you will always be enough. you
wanted Zayn Malik perfect to
always exceed the bar but you
never got out of your prison bars.
dear past dreams, it's sunday.
you've been blown out like a
dandelion. you're just stories
made up taking me to favorite
places i've never even been.
dear past me, it's sunday.
you'll get nutella and pretzels
on your birthday. you'll get to
rock climb horse ride taste the
sweet life. an abundant supply.
fly away, dandelion, fly away.
I remember the first time I saw you
I was wearing that flowery dress
You said I looked beautiful
I actually thought I did that day
I danced that day
and from a distance you were watching
I felt free and bold
You kissed my cheek
I remember the butterflies
But memories are like ashes in the wind
Once there only to be flown away
Because that is what they will always be
Just distant Memories