Bruised Blossom

Speak to the life in the decaying earth .

Command it turnover it’s harvest

by the flusters of spring .

Time stands still and one could imagine

in these moments that everything happens,

nothing happens.

An alarm goes off breaking the silence,

Your tears roll off dainty lashes.

Deja Vu,

You’ve lost count of how many times.

Words. Hurt. Tears. Apology. repeat.

The rest of the story, muted

The Arboretum of youth whitewashed

Reveal the skeletons we bolted away.

Evolving magnetism,

Lavender smothering kisses,

sticky soft gazes, diluted

into the blush nectar of our bruised blossom.

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