i could sit here 

and explain my loneliness

in some metaphor about flowers-

make it seem as if within it all

there is beauty

there is grace

but there is not.

there is nothing poetic or beautiful

about passing out at 3 a.m. 

with your wrist torn apart

even more than your heart

your hands shaking so much

that you just can't hold on anymore

these are not the thorns

of a delicate white rose

this is my reality 

this is my everyday

this is not a tulip

too scared to bloom

hiding within itself

no 

this is not a sunflower's death

or a morning glory, waiting for the sun to come out

before blooming 

this is a nightmare I'm unable to wake up from 

and to bury it within a metaphor

of something beautiful

is to diminish the reality behind it

no one looks at a daisy and thinks 

'my god

would i love to be dead right now' 

but my god

i feel like i already am

and it is not as lovely 

as you'd like it to be