Flowers grow outside my window
Some days they’re purple
Some days they’re blue
And i ask myself why we pick them
If we find them so beautiful.
Maybe we pick flowers when they’re at their loveliest
Because we want everything to stay as is.
We’ll hide them from the sun
And the change in seasons
We’re scared of change
And the reason being
That we’re completely unprepared.
So i’ll take this flower
And i’ll tuck it into the pages of a book i never read
Or a notebook i never use
And maybe while my whole life changes
This flower will be the one thing preserved
Pressed to these pages
Like the words I've tried so long to write
I haven't written a poem in a long time before this one.
I think I didn't let that flower live for the same reason I didn't write
I was scared of what would happen if I did.
Will the flower wilt?
Will its petals fall and become one with the soil as if it had never existed?
Will everyone forget it had existed?
Will they forget about me?
All these weeks
Ive been tucking my blank pages in tight with my flowers
Neither of them containing any form of life
All because ive been scared of what will happen if I let this ink blot bloom
And end this drought
Scared of what will take root in these pages of mine
So pristine when clean
But god knows what i’ll reap if i speak my mind
At least whatever happens nothing will happen to these pages
For a long time that blank space is more precious than anything I'll ever have to say
But ive come to realize that to ground myself I must touch the soil
Let these pages become soiled with my thoughts tangled up like ivy
And you’ll forgetmenot
Even if everything i say you've heard before
You will have never heard it fall from my tu-lips
And that’ll be the best day of your goddamn life
Because these words have never seen the light of day quite like this
Maybe flowers only become brighter when they come too close to the sun
They sprout yellow petals so maybe then you’ll pay attention
So I’ll let my words do the same
I’ll plant seeds of thought and reap gardens of colorful language
Uncensored spring blossoms that’ll go on to make your nose sniff and mind think for the whole season to come
And I thought
The flower was better off dead when it really could have gone on to give birth to more art
Than could fit in my notebook
And I thought
This voice was better off dead when it really could have gone on to give birth to art like this.