The storm
decapitated
the few tulip heads
that were brave enough
to blossom this April.
Tulips are not like
the other flowers--
they bloom only once a year.
When I dream of them,
their soft, yellow mouths console me.
From the massacre,
I am taught that
the labours of time
will one day heal me
like it will heal the tulips
come next spring--
heal me
in all the ways I deserve
(I know this now).
But like the tulips,
I must be patient.
I scatter their petals
like bread crumbs
across my mewling soul
in the hopes that
I too
will find my way back
to someplace softer.
Image Source:
Yellow bokeh gif (n.d.). [image] Available at: https://weheartit.com/entry/322914848 [Accessed 11 Jun. 2020]
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