there’s a woman walking past me on the trail
with shaky fingers and crooked knees
purse clenched tight and eyes blinking wide
my mind has been awake for days
i stare off and barely make her out in my periphery
she’s framed by uneven lashes
broken petals jutting out beneath lids
I close my eyes
there’s a timeline for my rebirth
every 4 months on the dot
It’s always another phase, a new beginning
that i haven’t tried yet
I can’t seem to get out of this cycle
this strictly choreographed dance of animation
I don’t realize I’ve bloomed in full color
Until after I’ve cut myself at the roots
and it’s too late
there’s something missing from my demeanor
shouldn’t i give more of a first impression?
i’m crafting myself around
a brand new idea each month
I’m like the boy walking willingly into the inferno
or the girl begging for someone new to break her heart
these waves of destination crash over me
with only debris left in the undertow
any possible stems fighting their way up
don’t have enough time to break the surface
there’s a palm of thorns waiting
for the next hand to reach out
They’re sharp and ready to cut
but that i don’t mind as much
And as I stare at the variety of plants
Surrounding me on the trail
I realize I can look clearly now
for the flower is born either with or without thorns
and it cannot change them
and it can still grow
there’s a woman walking past me on the trail
with a steady gaze and warming eyes
she carries herself differently now
and my mind has been awake for days but
i think i can make out a new shape she’s holding
a bundle of something i don’t have a full view of
something clean, something bright
something in bloom
something that looks
like flowers
Poetry
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Love this poem, the words, the meaning. Thanks for sharing.