Tuesday, 5 June 2018

grieving with those who have not grieved

This is not a performance
To be witnessed
I must go
To those who understand, the flowers 
Sit with me patiently, strewing 
Their scents and offering up
Their stained blush cheeks
For gentle stroking
I, too, need to be caressed 
Kept company
Not be questioned, I do not want to analyse 
or understand
My only wish to unpetal
And sit, empty
Alone with all the others.


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