Decomposing flesh somewhere secret
Where ribs have become a latter
For the wild roses to climb
Accompanied by the ivy vines
Baby's breath and aromatic thyme

No soil covering like that of a duvet
Fully exposed yellow green and gray
Sun-dried freshly plucked from life
Crown of flowers sitting crooked
Lips curved as if they were smirking

Because I made you promise me
When oxygen escaped me forever
To drape me amongst the fauna
In the exact location that you whispered
"I wish you were ******* dead"

Our saving grace
now leaves me with a perplexing taste of hiraeth in my mouth
In our moment of need, we clung to it
although simple
and dashingly ordinary
we wouldn't be here without it
but now that it inches toward its inevitable end
I am filled with bitter nostalgia
one of empty promises
for even when our season was ending
I cared for you nonetheless
I clung to your ruminating sweet taste
for even when your newfound thorns engulfed me
I held on
watering jug in hand
and laid my eyes on your grand opulent tree
just as fondly as before

Now we are back in season
but my hands have grown rough and weary from the thorns of yesterday
your once dulcet taste
repulses me
for the taste of my blood is surprisingly pungent.

A plant outstretches its frame,
in steady growth and tenor;
A new leaf still wrapped unto itself,
must unfold to meet the world.

A universe appears,
and another dissipates;
Yet a leaf is born,
between the stars and dirt -
from the dust and decay.

A sapling reaches for sun and rain,
as I search for pen and paper.
After all,
We all do what we can.

a church bell rings out in the distant fog
that hangs over our morning today
to and fro the birds chirp
with songs more intricate than the ear can hear
dew droplets rest on the ends of spruce leaves
their sprigs, shaken, from the rain weather greeted it
and whether storms lie in wait
tomorrow
i wait to meet it

I was looking for tulips.
I found you, oleander,
deadly nightshade.
Nothing grows in the
darkness that you chose
to live in.
Had I known, I would have
left you to wilt and rot in the sun

Bone tired, petal and stem
still crave the light.

The fug has muted us
putting aches where shines were
but the yearning for the thorn and burr
of every normal day persists

My skin is ready to be kissed
with burn and nettled rash again
to give me pause for actual thought

A soul’s vine is encased with demise.
Towering stalks desiccate to bister mummies and
Aflush dreams of romance capsize into sour, obsidian soil.  

Exhausted leaves crumble when the sun goes down
And amber tears of stinging sap drizzle from hollow sepal’s
That once hugged tender safad petals in the raw night
Like a child clinging to their eham biar yadashte.

Eclipsed roots search for taskeen semblance.
Divest thorns flourish on their throne,
Devouring golden seeds of promise.

Tishna fruit wither into ember dust,
Particles brushing away in the restless wind
Until all that lays are flattened memories

Forgotten, forsaken, fanni.

Word Search
Machana Ruh (roo): A Wilting Soul
Safad: Pure milky white
Eham biar yadashte: That feeling of something from our childhood that gave us inanimate affection. Something we, still to this day, can not let go of because it carries all our intimate memories and emotions (Like a teddy bear or blanket).  
Taskeen (Tash-kean): The warm feeling of home
Fanni (Fa-nee): Mortal fragility
Tishna: When a person is dehydrated to the point of death

when you grace the garden
i am overfilled with sunlight!
an intense admiration
leaves me with sudden blossoms
of an ever gentle pink...

won't you come closer?
i don't ask of you to be mine
nor for the warmth of your hands
i simply asked to be loved
every now and then...

and when i realize my feelings are one-sided
my appearance falls apart one petal at a time
leaving me to cry among the decay
when the flower is no longer a beauty
what reason do you have to stay?