~
Come tomorrow morning,
the spring snow will have melted,
but frigid I shall remain.
Storm-wrenched
I shall remain.
All the world begins to thaw
as I loll about in
the tundra of this loneliness.
When morning arrives,
I will draw the curtains
before the rising sun
shoots that beam
of apocalyptic grin.
The world is not ending,
you will tell me
(but mine is).
I have always existed
separately
from the rest,
you see:
The bright evenings and the even brighter mornings.
The unmistakably poignant scent of freshly-cut grass.
Marmalade sunsets that descend, effortless, into their celestial counterparts.
Flowers blossoming to profound vibrancy.
I wish I could tell the flowers
it is only a matter of time
before some wandering child
will rip apart their petals
in a ruthless game of
“He Loves Me/He Loves Me Not.”
(Child,
I Know this game
all too well---
the perils of picking
an even number)
And it is only a matter of time
before autumn dolls out
its wiltings.
I am also well accustomed
to the art of wilting,
you know.
The only difference
between me
and the sunflowers
is that the spring
belongs to them.
It is the epoch
of renewal & second chances
in spite of their inevitable
witherings,
both past and future.
But the present--
the spring--
it will always belong to them.
I do not know
what it is like
to heal in unison with the sunflowers.
I do not know
what it means
to shed the promise of
death
even if it is only
temporary.
My heart is caught
in an impenetrable limbo.
Tell me
Mother Nature,
how do I move on,
for letting go
seems a foreign enigma
to me.
What else am I to do
but draw the curtains
each sunrise
as I am left to
melt--
to weather the deluge
while all the world blooms.
As I am left to
pour,
I desperately
await the
rain.
Only then,
shall I return
home.
Image Source:
Foggy eyed girl gif (n.d.). [image] Available at:http://annasgif.com/new/love-girl-illustration-weird-artist-drawing-flowers-mood-falling-wind-lady-pirate-fog-blind-petals-melancholia-melancholy-taxipictures-withering/[Accessed 21 Apr. 2019].
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