burnt wood fills the air
coasting along with the
scent of applewood smoke
with the lakes
that flows off with the stream
closer with the sun it seems
my mind ponders while
my imagination wanders
as I become in tune with
the sun and the moon
thoughts sprout like a rose
with the light it glows
leaving it time for it to grow
with the flowers below

We sat there for three days, spoke of nothing
      just watched the flowers die.

We put them outside, in the sun and clean air,
we gave it water, as much as it could drink.

And yet these roses chose a different path.
Sick of our presence. They wilted
They refused the water, the air.

Punished us by refusing
to continue on here among us.

All they really needed was a black flower ***
with a gold interior
and flakes of glitter in the soil.

You deserve someone who can look pain in the eye — an insignia of heartbreak with your name written all over it; your trembling sighs — like rust, lingering over their rosegold lips, and still, not forget that they love you.