This particular flower, holds so many thorns
As if screaming behold thy pain
Such a carnation
So sweet and subtle
Imperfect perfections in which the other flowers were obsessed.
Dressed casually in ribbon
Yet so discreet with each petal.
She stands feminine
Apart from other glories
Modest in affection, but unfound
In fairy tale sections
Chaos splitting the groove within her stem
She feels rejected
In one loves view
So seldom in love
Who knew?
Try and connect the dots
From each spot she is bruised
Her cuts are endless
Her worries-
She wishes
Were few.
Her palms so small
Unable to fit all her mistakes
The blisters swell
Though it doesn’t pain her numb
Reruns orbit at lightning speed
Acid burns the bottom of her feet
Tears stain her clothes
Nothing is as important
Anymore.
There is no instruction book
Or manual for such doves
Doves cry
So what?
She cannot change who she really is
Among the others
She’s sweeter than sin
Her mild mind
Swings harmoniously
Undefined through
The short amount of time
That time elapsed-
Her persona
Difficult to grasp
Does this amazing carnation
Understand
She is so often mistaken
For someone she isn’t
Because she’s someone unique
She exists where roses and thorns
Take the time to meet
Somewhere beyond the staggering
Fleets of pros and cons
Feelings of those loved and lost
She grows sensuous.
Sun
Behold
The fold
Of an imperfectly perfect
Woman.
Written by: Desir'ee Chavez