Vines in between my palms

Clouded the thoughts of an unattainable scheme

Accompany a seemingly harmless pirouette

crashing to the tear soaked floor

 

Touch like hellfires thorns

This goodwill, is the wellness even good?

My melancholy soul that yearns for paramore

Attachment that I can’t unleash

 

A hopeless ardor is all it will be

Yellow tulips taste bitter sweet

No honey or roses can swallow me whole

Refutation is no longer a course

 

Acknowledging the impossible

Forget-me-not do the stings whisper

Amaranthus leaves my endeavor to bleed

While my tongue is dripped in nightshade 

 

But these hands that grasp fern and foxglove

Willpower is strong but so is the harebells bond

The sweet ecstacy is drowning me 

some hydrangea when you need to breath

 

Even with each little rip

The bouquets are growing quicker

Each scream and tear is too much to bear

I desire a return with daphne odora 

This hemlock will be the death of me

 

A hopeless adror is all it comes to

As I sniff the galega and eglantine

In the meantime I’ll serenade myself with rose buds

As I think in pink carnations