There I lay sobbing under wilting flaccid rose petals that have been dead hours ago

Here in my room a wilted neglected garden intentionally forgotten by everyone but me

Ever the pessimist I’m cursed into being stuck in this place of nothing but feeling

Sundered away is my hope for this to be over crippling fear and hopelessness

And just knowing that it’ll happen again it’ll always happen again

Leaving never an option a maze with no exit only more blooms of defiled lust

Timbering away what could’ve been me and my soul now only cripplingly

Bitter like a a years spoiled lime my hands now looking as pale as dead coral

Uninterested in getting up with a mirror to face me like a bears gaping maw

Really just feeling like a shredded piece of driftwood to clog other peoples rivers

Now just in the way as a waterfall of salt to pour out of

my tongue when they look

Obscurity as my limbs break and pour out enough salt to solidify the sea

Never an an ounce of sanguine left for anyone else too selfish to give any away

Merryness dying quickly whenever someone walks into my sight trapped in the garden

Yellow sunflowers dying in my hands all gifts of mine perish as stuck here with me now

Letting them walk in not even enough energy to truly push and force them away

Even if that makes me a narcissist I’ll take my crown of hands even when it crawl

Gangling to my throat to remind me so I’ll just lay down and sleep until

Summer ends and my garden can die and my heart will be frigid eternally