Have you always been
So soon to dismiss me?
In your Chanel poke-a-dot dress,
Black and white like your heart:
“Just blow him away
like the gentle florets
I tear from the earth,
without a second thought.”
In a garden of (labelled WEEDS)
A wish making dandelion
Is all I’ll ever be
But like the wish you pierced through my heart
And charred to ashes
With a quivering mutter
Under your soft searing lips,
I only wanted to know how it felt
To live in everyone else’s sunlight.
How sad that
I no longer am that sacred dandelion
For you to wish upon.
All that I am now
And ever will be to you,
Is a creeping thorn, too (labelled UNCOMFORTABLE)
For your garden of conformity.
The flower blossoms drip
In the sensation of warmth,
Rejoicing the aroma of melting plastic
As burning rubber permeates the air.
The birds die and the butterflies flee;
Are you not happy with your (labelled PERFECT) garden?
At this point,
If scarlet dreams
And gold painted roses
Are all your heart desires,
Then don’t bother playing
With the weeds.
I ask that you don’t
Even look for me anymore, because
Unlike your (labelled BEAUTIFUL) petals
To be blown apart by wishes,
I’d rather stay beneath the leaves
And wither alone.