Imagine yourself in the soil... that’s where you start, where you’re born. After you must grow, blossom and bloom, then wilt. This is your life, each day something new. First you must learn to survive before you start.
I wrote this for you. Whether you need a reminder on how to fight, or where you need and want to be in your life...
Raindrops, water plops, let’s go see the ocean. Let’s go skip a stone 14 and 11. Let’s go find a way so we could go to heaven. Raindrops, falling on my face. Raindrops mixing with my tears. Tears falling into the water well. Rose gardens, little girls picking them carefully. But the rain is falling, and the girls are crying and the roses are wilting. The wind is crying and I am crying and the well is crying and the roses are crying. Raindrops, water plops, let’s go see the ocean. Let’s go skip a stone, 14 and 11
two roses- growing in the same bush- surviving off the same soil- growing into something beautiful- becoming something greater- growing as one
the sun- shining bright upon them- encouraging their growth- lighting up their future- calming their senses- kindling the passionate affair- moving them closer together- more intimate and dear
the sun neglects its obligation to one of the roses- refusing a light source for the bloom- leaving it wilted and begging for nutrients- brown and fragile- dying as the sun proceeds to rise over the other rose
the second rose continues growing along with the sun- in spite of the downfall of the latter- almost mocking the lesser decaying bloom- because it has a source of light encouraging its growth- safe and sound- not giving any pity to the rotting flower beside it- soaking up its own source of light- and not sharing any rays with the decaying blossom- rendering it useless and unwanted
the selfishness of the one rose- refusing to share its sunshine with the latter- results in solely one rose- instead of two roses
When he left for good that night, I cried myself to sleep and woke up without him. In his place, tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.
I rid of her, limb for limb, tore her in two and stole a piece of her... all to myself. Her insides bled from their newly bloomed.
I'm trying my hand at a poetry chapbook called "Wilted". Each poem will go off of a color in the girl's perspective and then the next one will have a picture of a wilting flower the match the color (i.e the boys perspective). This is just one of many parts.
for so long, i have been watering my own petals aiding in my own growth soaking my roots with positivity and love growing to my fullest potential
and then you came along and i thought you would continue to help me grow but you put me into a drought leaving me thirsty and gasping for air
now because of you my petals are wilting away from your harsh abandonment and apathy and my soul will now rot because of this terrible lonely drought hindering my growth and leaving me utterly and completely helpless and alone