where the wild flowers grow
The fluff of tree seeds careen into the breeze,
and how I long to catch them with my stranded hair,
with my yearning fingertips.
And my body in liquid avoidance, crying for a
deep breath of the air
but overcome by the fearful void of that sliding
glass door, it never falls broken, never comes open,
keeps me leaning toward, but always apart.
I close my bitter eyes to the sun,
I imagine this is just not the day for courage or
play, so I can't help but give up hope on the
sway and living Earth.
stand between me and my fear, and I carry
the water for the flowers still,
crumbling over the weight of you,
you are my outside.
The dawn never brings me good news,
rain never carries you away,
your shadow cloud blocking my kindled star,
and I've spent my days watching, in horror,
as my world continues to wilt without end.
Your sour smile only brings
more darkness, but you'd love to think
yes, you'd love to think you are full of light.
You are my night perpetual, you are
my outside keeping me in,
my quaking Earth that's cracking and breaking
in all the wrong places.
And shocking in my bedroom you ask that I shall
hold you through the moonlight,
to rest beside my withered, so you are ready
for the 'morrow. And I let you without fight,
as if welcoming this sorrow.
But little do you know that I
have covered all of my future windows,
so you know not when to wake.
And I take her hand in mind as we shall walk
the days in rays of light while you
dream of the next charade.
I am not your savior, I am your night.
Keep my past fears for warmth, for
my flowers bloomed as you slept, my love,
and you cannot breathe in my scorn.
I am your outside, I am your in,
I am your fighting words and
is your end.