I broke myself.

I’m a lost flower in a garden of complexities.

a flower glazed by its aromatic, 

minty bell-shaped attire 

with an exotic type of silkiness

housed under puffed clouds that felt like art

indulging in the realm of a tropical bliss

with the peek of sun over the peak of mountains,

captivating my dews, 

plundering my astonishing petals

leaving me drab and dismal 

but I never complained because I longed for rain

that filled the driest parts of me with 

hopes 

to be blossomed and kissed 

by a rainbow of promise to meet again.

why me among the varieties of foreseen perfection?

as nonchalant as the pleasing sounds of the ocean waves dashing against the rocks 

creating a sounding melody to the rhythm 

that had made headway 

to my incompatibilities

far beyond what the universe thinks of me.