Sometimes I feel like writing; I don't claim that what I write is good,
but I like reading what I have written.
may-15
i lived my life
with a seed for a heart
you were the sun
that made it a flower
and made it bloom
what do i know of flowers?
they smell nice and
they are beautiful
you know how to nurture them
and how to make them grow
who can know this
better than a flower?
i was only happy
to have a bloom
where a seed was
now the sun has left me
and i have left the sun
the clouds have interrupted us
and my bloom has closed
i could live my life
wandering in darkness --
hell is not continuous
but how can i live with
brief flashes of sunlight
through patchy clouds
having forsworn the day?
i must live in a sarcophagous
to save me from your sunshine
may it not consume the heart
that it is there to save