Flower

 The ways you loved—petals that flutter fervour.
I lo
ved you with no favour,
but vapours in my depression
soddens the paper couture.
My apologies lose their wings,
flying through embracing looking glasses—peek me clear.
Underneath three later months
paper plane dates,
picnic nights in text,
pleasure found in my perception.
I showed you love,
in ways more than one.
I wish our time was spent
below the phones
over our eyes.
I am no sober life—sadness intoxicates the heart.
I pleased myself,
knowing your honest eyes
saw me as
your only tie.
The things I did—quills expressed valour.
It’s grand as much allure
pulls your head to lean into mine.
Keep me guarded in disheartened joy.
Autumn flees the Winter cry
–frostbite woes–
You changed my tears
to flow out my heart,
concealing inside emotions,
and the backburner it goes.
Your sobs, I feared.
The way I dealt your cards
sent me through rocked
convulsions,
turning my soul to ghosts.
Spooked myself and slammed the book shut.
I love you every time you hurt me,
but I hurt you every time I love me;
and I’m sorry.
I can’t plant myself
any more than I can
without sacrificing
my veins for poison
ivy vines—replacing
My skin with leaves,
barks, and roots. I
can’t plant myself to
be your flower, apologies