drunk-on-writing:

i knew i loved you
when i could taste roses on my tongue 
when beautiful petals in shades of red fell from my lips 
and spelled out your name as they hit the floor 
i opened my mouth to try and tell you 
that the bouquet that was within me was all for you
that the garden spilling out of my mouth was for you
but try as i did 
all i could do was choke on petals of the flowers
that were growing inside of me because of you
growing from the seeds that you planted in my lungs with our first kiss
i was the soil 
and you were supposed to be my sun 
flowers cannot thrive without one or the other 
so they longed for an escape 
towards warmth, towards light, towards the love and care they needed
(and i needed) 
and with every gasp of breath 
the petals fell from the rose forced into in the glass container that was my lungs
with every cough 
the garden you planted began to sprout
to shoot up towards the only escape they could find
my mouth, which was open, crying out for you
but you weren’t there to gather up their beauty in your hands 
so they had no choice but to wilt 
and i can feel myself wilting 
no longer are there flowers filling me
but dirt 
nothing but dirt 
and an untended garden of weeds
and the decaying remains of something that should have been beautiful  

(cc, 2018)

Ave Babalon