Blossom and Bone

under the soil.

you lay under the soil surrounded by the sounds of insects moving and water soaking into the soil.

under the soil, there is a wooden box.

you lay in the wooden box with roses that once blossomed and bloomed, yet now lay in petrified pieces upon your chest.

under the soil alone

you remain perfect in your chest of what once bloomed so beautiful and bright.

under the soil your blossom and bone.

you remain silent and still as the stars and the moon sing their song to you.

Lioness from Eden

Never one to believe in anything,
you adopt an elitist attitude towards those whose opinions are not your own.

She finds you to be her one and only,
for you and her connected many lives ago.

Now you’re arguing insistently, without
fully appreciating what her lips and mind explain.

She feels a pang of hurt as you tear layers of her arguments away without thinking of the consequences.

Not one to see your own folly, you shovel the dirt from an increasingly large hole.

Seeing her chance, she pounces upon your weak argument like a Lioness from Eden.

Now you can really see her and your elitist bullshit begins to falter.

She catches you with her teeth, you flail about like a rabbit not long from death;
for you both to find deep love in two pairs of eyes.

You deserve more

beauty moves within you,
for you possess a soul different to most.

broken by things once horrible,
you took your experiences and ascended.

boldly moving ahead of your time,
most people don’t get your quartz heart.

brittle feelings once many,
now emotions of all kinds flourish within.

brightly moving along the way,
you deserve more love
and
blue kindness,
for quartz is a beautiful gem
and
comes in many rare colours.

Broken Pieces

broken and chipped cups
and sauces sit still in a
crate next to your kitchen
cupboards.

as a true bohemian and
lover of broken things, you
embrace Kintsugi.

to you, gold and silver joinery,
no matter the cost, is more
beautiful than any
complete piece.

those broken pieces are
your broken pieces, as you
mend the sorrows of your life.
crying over a piece, you forget
yourself and reach for the kettle.

the Wildflower Tea of your
sorrow flows into your cup, yet
the hot water and steam turns
sorrow into sweetness, as you
sip from a cup of sparrows.

The Red Flower

You are far from me
Yet you are so close to me

Your hand touches me
Yet you are continents away

I saw you that day we connected
It was being inside your head

Your alarm was mine
Yet you embraced our special gift

I know your thoughts and you mine
It was the fates playing

You’re with me until the fates know
Yet I love you being here

I touch you with lips to your heart
It turned our spirits alight

You showed me the red flower
Yet you never said a word

I vowed to meet you in a week
It was the happiest words

You vowed to meet me in a week
Your happiness ripples
I cannot speak
It is done