Thorns.
Running through an apocalypse
I gasped.
to keep the illicit flower alive.
You hit the push I sung,
you held the pull I sulked.
Eyes to eyes,
I shuddered
Bone to flesh.
Those butterflies in my stomach
screamed for death.
Your emotions dispersed -
our future laughed on my face -
my present, reversed.
But darling,
Here I am finally standing still
a little disobedient this time
slipping off from your fist,
I.
am no longer calling you home.
But don’t forget to keep count of petals,
‘cause it’s your turn
to feel the thorns.
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