I asked you to open your red-stained wonders,
gave my light to breathe it all, shined truth
over glossy leaves that grew more shade than pain
beneath young blossoming smiles — I saw the bottles
planted in your bed. Flower, I asked for only a taste
of your painted fragrance, your sweet honeyed truths
displaying colorful words like “love” and “faith”
yet when night arrived and no essence enlightened my face
I was forced to make room for a dim reflection; I fell
by the arrogance bending in your malleable roots. You,
enfolding not for rest but to hide that soft flushed skin,
I glimpsed mere shadows of what you so quietly buried
within, and as ignorance is the seed that grows all fear,
I am by a very dark and beautiful definition
astonishingly terrified of your closed plastic petals.


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