the gardener ventured
across the country
till he found
the perfect plot

young, unsown
fertile
and ready to be
used

he did as any gardener
would do
he planted his seed
knowing
his flower would grow

he planted his seed
and waited
he watered the ground
and waited

a young sprout
broke through the soil
and the gardener beamed
his flower was growing

and it grew
and it grew

he watered his flower
and gave her food
he thought she needed
and he plucked away
what she didn't

his flower was small
and delicate
he needed to protect her
protect her from others

she was his flower
and his alone

if she grew astray
he pulled her back
into her place

and all she was
was just his flower
and his alone

natures wonderland
my green thumb dehydrated

wild flowers blossom

Cup

On a wooden table nested between purple flowers
A little cup of coffee sits
By a window perched on a bar stool
Fiddling with the cup, in the palms of her hands, sits a girl

She woke up this morning in a hurry to meet you
Took 3 buses to get to you
Because you made plans weeks ago, but you never showed up
And now this girl is left hopelessly thinking
“What’s the rush to being rejected?”

The barista came by, asked her if she was waiting on someone
No one important
because waiting on you is like reading the same paragraph three times
And never understanding a single word

They asked her if she’d like another cup, anything to eat
She can see the pity in their eyes
They can see past her faux smile
She doesn’t have an appetite, but accepts another cup

They filled it to the brim
Maybe its warmth will fill the cold inside her chest

Ason 7d

“Nobody owns life, but anyone who can
pick up a frying pan owns death.”
– William S. Burroughs

Through a door that is not mine
that’s left ajar from time to time
we see a man with zany eyes
scarred-up face, mouth full of lies.

Through a window at an ungodly hour
the night our neighborhood lost power
we see the man pull on a mask
and knit the weavings of his task.

I should have gotten quite the scare
when he pulled that woman by her hair,
then tossed her in the hole he’d fill
and quickly cover with daffodils,

but I’m no stranger to playing detective;
his plots have proven rather defective.
A call to the cops brings a rap on his door
that eventually leads to the lush garden floor.

Now, I don’t think I’m deserving of fame
my ego is simply much too tame
but I have kept dark things from view
and you listen well, so I’ll share with you.

There is something you should recognize
in that man with zany eyes;
don’t always believe what you’re told to see,
for he who plants the daffodils is me.

I promise I have not killed anyone.

Here in our garden
I planted you some flowers
They’re blooming for you

Alice Wilde May 13

Sometimes,
I think of taking my hands
                                                                      And ripping - splitting - cracking,
                                                                                                My ribcage in two.            
                                      
                                      The breastbone splintering apart,
                                     My torso opening like a rotten tree.

                                                                                                  Colors oozing out
                                                                                        Or the inside hollowed,

Like a lake that has been emptied.

                                            -I've convinced myself that
                                                     Fragrant flowers
                                                   Would grow there.

                                                                       That they would grow feverishly
                                                                                               In the gnawing gap
                                                                                                That I had created.

And that time would preserve
What I had done.

Dandelion spirit, and a thorny rose fighter.

You can't go carelessly picking up flowers without expecting one to be a biter.

For every petal that wilts, you'll get a sting.

Prickly thorns clinging to every single thing.

Nature can be soft and sweet, but in every beautiful landscape there is a nearby guarding beast.

You cannot deceive flowers, for you are already deceived.

The petals sheild a warrior, and their sword is hungry to feed.

for ashley, one of my closest friends in the world and perhaps the one i hold closest to my heart. sometimes my maternal instincts take over and i feel the need to protect you from everything i can, but then i remember, you are so much stronger than youre given credit for. i'm so proud of you! i love you! thank you for being apart of my life
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