You set fire to me,
so that I can bloom and grow.
You nourish me with your exhales,
and face me toward your red glow.
When you look away I wither,
I mold and lose my charm.
Light up your violet stem,
your thorn does me no harm
Your ivy eyes contained me,
so now you burn across my skin.
The embers hanging from your lips
give truth to the fire within.
Your smoke rings glide across my body,
puffed petals discharged to caress my face.
Our loving flower begins to perish,
not keeping up with this lavender race.
Nutrients you no longer offer
makes for a frozen, nicotine season.
My smile is turned just like the soil
because you wilted with green reason.
*** *** ***
I don't believe it to be fatalistic, because it is just natural truth. My dear friend Gwen summarizes it nicely with: "born to blossom, bloom to perish". We spread ourselves out for all our glory, only to begin to shrink.
