The day I bloomed,
The universe began to mistake me
For a rose.
And for every day afterward, I would never wither
Honeybees trailed my colorful fumes,
Mistaking my blood for nectar.
Love chased after my heart,
Mistaking its frigidness for warmth.
Rain fell to my feet,
Mistaking my legs for stems.
Wind flowed through my hair,
Mistaking each curl for petals.
They say the universe has its truth
That what blooms is a rose.
And for every day since then,
It’ll never wither
The truths of the universe are never true, despite being called truths
For I have thorns rather than petals, and cold blood rather than nectar
A Dreamy Valley
Seeds of my dreams are born so vivid, yet, so vague
They plant roots deep into the mind
Far enough that the qualms can’t plague
Molding twisting routes for the soul to find
The routes dip in deep, dark alleys
Where light is fogged by impregnable doubts
Everything but the seeds of my dreams withers in the valleys
Leaving only my dreams surviving light’s droughts
Blood Red Moon