Broken flowers

White blossoms you gave me,
Congealed, as they died.
I thought it was us-
Reinventing ourselves
In those clean, cut shapes.

Want to draw on your skin,
The broken flower’s I have to give,
The flowers you once gave me.

In violent hues,
They wait
Tragic,
Like the secret
I wear vainly in my hair.

Want to paint on your skin,
The broken flower’s I have to give,
The flowers you once gave me

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One thought on “Broken flowers

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