You peeled the petals back,
delicate,
like fruit,
to suckle the sweetness of honey,
said I bloomed for you.
I longed to believe it.
Your lips pressed against
each sacred velvet edge,
the tips of your fingers
pollen stained,
like secrets meant to be
melted into saccharine spoons.
You plucked my petals
one
by
one
bitten between your declarations
as I shivered into your palms,
begging to be dismantled
in a way that would have me
growing back twice as full.
But I lie bare
adrift in a hollow fog,
an empty stamen,
a relic pulled clean,
an alter left petalless.
About the Creator
Ellie Hoovs
Breathing life into the lost and broken. Writes to mend what fire couldn't destroy. Poetry stitched from ashes, longing, and stubborn hope.
My Poetry Collection DEMORTALIZING is out now!!!: https://a.co/d/5fqwmEb
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.