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The Flowers I Never Picked


flowers I never picked up


she walked into the field, stormed ahead of me, kicking the leaves and sticks and shrubbery aside. “darling look at all the petals wasted on all those bending stems, the colours are too vibrant against the wilt.” me, my heart a wild flower and body a furnace, a forest fire that only a mother could love. pink, the lips and the flowers and the sunset, all alike and all anticipating a catch of the bouquet, waiting for their turn. when you blow away the ashes, underneath are the flowers i never picked up.



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she walked into the field, stormed ahead of me, kicking the leaves and sticks and shrubbery aside. “darling look at all the petals wasted on all those bending stems, the colours are too vibrant against the wilt.” me, my heart a wild flower and body a furnace, a forest fire that only a mother could love. pink, the lips and the flowers and the sunset, all alike and all anticipating a catch of the bouquet, waiting for their turn. when you blow away the ashes, underneath are the flowers i never picked up