one petal, two petals
can you hear the noise beneath the floorboards
and the white noise in the ceiling?
three petals, fuck, now four
i must be overthinking.
thorns trickle to the floor
they kiss through petals they once ignored
he loves me
he loves me not!
whoosh, whoosh
i can feel it, i know you can, too.
when will it end?
your appearances feel like an omen
to abide by what has been stolen
you profit off of my soul
still, after all of these years
leave me as i am
a bride in tight clothing
running, searching, worried
i can’t breathe
i can’t fucking breathe.
like our time together
there are no more petals
but the roses are still red
and i am blue-hued.