Here I sat idle, silently
Drowning within the
Wisteria of my cracking
Mask, face set in stone.
Ivory roses would wrap
Around my honey-glazed
Skin, quietly willing the
Anemone trapped in my
Tired lungs to leave after
Carrying their burden.
I layed me under the vow
Of a mourning willow, all
Overgrown and barren still
Like the asters weeping under
Afternoon sun, burning hazel.
I have palm leaves though,
Bleeding like daisies as
They mark scars into my
Skin and create a mask.
My soul became an elm
And my emotions are
Hollow ash trees, thoughts
Dripping maple in the wind.
My heart is a blue rose,
And I am the aftermath of
A white chrysanthemum
Discovering deception.