blooming in grey clouds, budding
peonies, sunflowers, roses in the
darkest days of winter.

bruised by my own tenderness,
painted in every shade of too much,
drowning in the quiet after the storm.

begging for unconditional love, yet
plunging into the coldest and
deepest corners of the ocean floor.

blushing at the sight of twinkling eyes,
pouring out the gory bits and pieces ‘til
dawn reminds us of the impending doom.

breathless gasps for air,
petrified, what once was yours is now
drifting, breaking, disappearing.

believing in the unknown, cautious, but
positive. pulsing. persevering.
dreaming, desperate to disconnect from the ugly truth.

beneath the scarlet-adorned hair lies a
pessimistic paradox of a creature
desperate to cling, far from the piercing eyes.

back to the start, the bloom and the bruise,
promising to stay, never saying how long;
dust settles, then stirs again.