another life

Delicately

what do i want to be?
more than anything,
a flower.
so soft and tender,
you must touch me
delicately,
a fragile thing i’d be.
i’d have it easy.
to be beautiful
without ever trying.

maybe we are all flowers
lovely little things
something to admire
in each of us
with intricate details
of our own
that others discover.
but only those who are
patient
those who stick around
until we bloom,
once every petal is
exposed,
one by one,
opened up
when we decide it’s safe.

i think i am a flower
that hasn’t seen the sun,
and has yet to be watered.
well i’m starting to think so
but i haven’t got a clue.

maybe i am one that is
dried up,
whose petals are dying
loosing its color
and everything there is
to desire
until there’s not a point in trying
and there’s nothing
to admire,
and i’ll give up,
no other choice but
to retire.

no way of knowing
if i am right or wrong.
if i am closer to the end
or the beginning.

i want to believe
i am a flower
only unnoticed because
i have yet to blossom.
that my efforts now
remain unimportant
entirely because
i am still young,
and not because
i am withered and worthless.

either way,
we all end up in the dirt somehow.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i feel like i've gone through life unnoticed regardless of how much i try or what i do, while there are so many others whose every action is recognized and paid attention to. i'm only 18 but part of me feels like it's too late and that there's nothing left to give, but i'd like to think that things will change as i'm getting older.

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REwind

Puppy drool oh how i love you a cute face
doesnt know how much you mean to me
chocolate so warm and nutty a mixture
sweet and tangy strawberries so sour at its peak
I guess were food for a mushy movie
oh man i love how you kissed me on a frosted day in the middle of spring
yellow auspicious the sun leans
a deep oceans melted drip onto the fills of our toes at sunset
Ill lay by your side till the ends of our fingertips collaborate into time
tis true a a blent blunt fills a heart heated in desertedness
Ill hand over the pieces that he left behind cracked and burnt all down the sides
enjoy how little time these silly poems i stop and try to rewind time

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