I Am The Blossom

-

I am the blossom

At the height of its fruitation

Ready to be plucked and devoured

Ready to be squeezed until I ooze red

And for my pink petal lips to be bruised purple

At the peak of passion.

My pollen waits

Pure

Never touched

Heavy and aching with need

To be taken by a bee.

My leaves tremble

Sunlight dappling my rosette cheeks.

I grow higher

Reaching for the sky

Ever ending

Ever blue.

I long to touch that infinity

Far beyond the stars

Farther than anyone has dared to go.

That sliver of a chance

So fragile

Distant

And tiny,

I would go to the ends of the earth

And beyond

To acquire it

And be caressed

By warm

And adoring fingers.

My soul

Black and shriveled

Flowing automatically

Never meant to pulsate on its own

Aches

Needs

And wants

To see that face

Curve into a smile

That I have encouraged.

I wait

And watch

As others pass me by

Smiling numbly

With only a quick glance.

One stops to stroke me

I hope that he plucks me

But he moves on

And I droop

But it is nothing new.

Old pain.

I drink up the moist soil beneath me

Straighten and strengthen my stem.

My petals reaching high

For that golden sun

More determined than before.

And again I stand tall

And wait.

For I am the blossom

At the height of its fruitation

Ready to be plucked and devoured.

-

I was suddenly struck with this poem on the drive home from school and immediately typed it up. Tell me what you all think::smiles::

Written while listening to “Malchik Gay” by Tatu.

Mysteri