sprouting

My right-side brain's growing fowers,

my lungs are sprouting roots.

My heart's a dripping beehive,

its sweetness all for you.

So wrap it all up in paper,

send a burnt offering to the sky.

Pack it up in mason jars,

preserve it with the vinegar of your lies.

My body is a garden with a locked gate,

clouds shifting from love to hate.

Rewind the tapes, watch my life back,

hindsight's always 20/20.

My favourite colour wasn't always black,

and I smiled in a golden light.

Flower crowns and swimming pools,

how I miss suburbia.

Wasn't always fucking with the cool kids,

but I grew up.

Now all I'm worried about is if I'm your type.

My eyelashes are vines that grow together.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741