Shrouded in deep purple fear and billowing clouds of crimson shame,
I sat on the floor, a trembling moth in still air.
I swallowed. The taste of bile remained.
My warmth flowed out of my body into the icy bathroom tiles, escaping rapidly through cracks in my split-open soul.
She sat beside me, quiet, waiting.
After an eternity, I nodded to her with a shaky breath.
She helped me gently off the floor and guided me to her bed, tucking herself behind me to become my tight cocoon.
With my head rested against her chest, I heard her blood pounding through her, but her breaths were slow, controlled.
The fibers of my muscles remained tense, straining to compensate for my spirit - raw, exposed, vulnerable.
Her small, soft fingers ran through my tangled hair,
drips of golden honey appearing as she began to hum.
Her radiant honey oozed from the smooth, full notes of her voice and dripped between sharp fragments of my shattered porcelain.
The clock tutted at us from the wall, approaching the third hour of morning, but she held my shards together tenderly and unhurried.
The fight drained from me as she sang her sweet melody.
A puddle of purple and crimson beneath me. Pieces, tenderly held.
Her pure, glimmering honey meandered through my etched cracks and between my too-prominent ribs to replace my purple and crimson.
She sang the life back to me, held me together with her sturdy grace.
She waited as the liquid gold began to solidify and I began to feel closer to whole once more.
She - who loves me laughing, who loves me dancing - loves me messy, too.

Gloriously unbound you grow ravenously,
Spreading your roots as far as the earth can bare you reach limits unseen,
A survivor despite the climate your radiance is saluted,
Such beauty in the unrecognized you thrive,
Sparkle in silence young wildflower because your time is near,
To be adorned in April showers and masked in summer's sun,
Magnificent is your journey and true is your existence.

some concretes break,
for a wildflower to thrive.

IA

your DNA is wild
so please,
take care
of your inner child

you may pass some challenging phases
although people don’t want you
to grow in certain places

so grow through concrete
in the middle of the street
grow in a litter bin
grow from dirt
grow in different directions
grow with imperfections

because your roots are strong
and you aim up high
until you reach the sky

so grow in every angle you want to
because there’s a wildflower in you.

- gio

A wildflower bloomed
On the edge of a path.
One scarce of flora,
So I bent down to ask.

"How did you flourish
In soil so lorn?"
Her reply was brief,
But it carried no scorn.

"Oh yes, it's quite odd
To have sprouted here alone,"
Said the gypsy flower,
Amongst gravel and stone.

She walks a path with one eye open
She follows a path with one eye closed
Connecting the strings that float around
Like caterpillars
Dangling
From trees
Squirming on their silk
She crawls underneath them
Un-wanting to not disturb the dance
Until she smells the wildflowers.
The other eye closes
Still crawling the path
Luckily,
The bugs have warn it down enough
To follow with her hands and nose.
When she felt the wildflowers on her face
She opened that eye
Excitedly she pealed open the other.
When she heard nothing
She was amazed
In the distance she could see waves crashing through the wildflowers
Once again her world was absent of light.
This time she held her breath.
She laid in those wildflowers
For a long time.
So long her fingers and toes sprouted roots pulling her deep inside the soil,
Grounding her.

You were mine,
                           A Wildflower.

Sprout up in the most unlikely of places,
Peaking yellow and green through the copper chipped bricks,
You spread out, wrapped around my hand,
we grew together.

Intertwined
Inseparable
Iridescent - reflecting each other.

Until - your grip loosened,
Once effervescent,
I watched your colour fade -
Now waned, wilted, worn.

I tried to love you back to life -
Though I don't know you anymore.