You once told me

To never fear the judgment of whispers

And that neglect is a special kind of venom

That leaves a special kind of bruise

But the winds began to tarnish my soul

And my existence seemed to become transparent

I have always been a wildfire

With a flame I thought no one could tame

Then a stranger such as you, effortlessly extinguished it

Leaving me with nothing but nervous quiver

(You) were not trying to smother my fire

You were trying to (inspire) it

Because with empty goodbyes

And (a thousand) kept promises

The spilled ink on a paper

Would start to remind me of forgotten (possibilities)

You were a mystery book left incomplete

Seconds wasted searching the skies

To ensure me (that) it will quench my thirst

Trying to mend the pitiful pieces of me back together

And you did

You said you would like to (make) something

With all the pieces that seemed to fit

I knew the pieces fit because I was the one who broke them

So you took those pieces and made (me) myself again

You once told me

That I was a (wild)flower

Because I was delicate

(For) when I didn’t receive all I desired Id welt

But I never told you

That you were a forest

That I could thrive in forever

Because your kisses are the soil to the ground

And you have this powerful hold on me

That makes me want to blossom

And the daylight is still present at midnight

Because that is (your) special kind of venom

You have the heart of a dandelion

And if lions love flowers

And the wild loves everything dandy

Then this makes sense

I would love to be judged by lion’s whispers

Because a lion that holds back his roar

Is a (love)ly lion indeed

Because what else makes a wild lion

Or a lion wild?