Drop by drop, grain by grain, overnight
the seeds of your love are growing inside my chest.
They spread their roots throughout my veins and capillaries.
But they don't know that,
my poisonous blood enter into their meristem gradually.
One day it will end them up with rotting roots and rusting leaves.
when they fight to survive.
Then please don't grieve yourself
When you did know that-
you planted on the moon's chest.

love is the sweetest seed
you'll ever plant in a heart
to make it enduringly flourish
tend it well from the start

love's blossom shall grow
into a beautiful array
an exquisite rouge rose
cherished for its display

Valentine the perpetual
gardener of endearedness
cares with a loving touch
profound in true closeness

I know I have the capabilities to succeed...
But it's so hard when depression clings onto you,
Plants its seed into your brain,
And grows bigger and heavier each day,
All the while the roots dig deep into your cerebral cortex,
And feeds off of your saltwater tears and the dull light of your bedroom.

It grows,

and grows,                                        

                                 and grows,

Into a helpless plant that entraps you within.
Closing you away from light,
Eating into you like a fly in a fly trap.

It's the secluded feeling that makes you insane.
Waiting it out until it frees you from itself.

But it just keeps growing,

                                                    big­ger

and stronger.                                                      

­
And it always seems like the only way you can stop it,
Is from killing it from where it started.

Humans, by nature, are creatures of the present.
We live in the now.
And maybe your now was 4 years ago before she died,
And maybe your now is a visionary hope of days yet to come.
Whatever the case, I've had a beautiful thought, or better said, a bit of happy revelation;
The seed never sees the flower.

If you had met me 3 years ago, you'd have a vastly different experience than if you met me today.
Then, my countenance bore the look of a fox lily seed bulb, or rather, a soiled ******* with a shriveled pink petal of hope and thick tendrils of pity, like some kind of monster bug that got lost while looking for where the wild things went.
A rather pathetic sight, coupled with the stench drug abuse and swelling cresendos of loneliness.
Back then I lived in the shadows of regret, and walked on a leash with a noose as my collar, made tame by the demon to whom she sold my soul: Depression.
I drowned my sorrows in ***** and stifled it with the fragrance of dank ****.
My head hung lose on my shoulders, my shoulders slumped hopelessly over my body, and I had an distinct shroud of gloom.
I wanted to die.

But as those long and lonely hours drew out into dreary September days, and on to weeks,
then months,
then years,

I began to blossom.

Thick tendrils of pity took root in the rich soils of friends in need and grew into powerful roots of compassion, transcending years and onwards to a lifetime.

The ******* actually became a heart.
Strong and bold, and inscribed with the scars of every story.

And that little, shriveled petal?
It blossomed into a steadfast and fiery fox tail lily, and when the sun hits it at just the right angle, it almost looks like the burning flame of invigorating life.
And there I stand, stalwart and garish amidst the rolling hills of our very own pale blue dot, looking back on the path that lead me here, simply by letting time pass and enduring the onslaught of change.

And I remembered

The seed never saw the flower.