Voice

voice

a rose, so fine and soft

lived in my throat,

delighted to replace

my vocal chords

blood red petals warmed my

passing blood, filtering my thoughts,

silencing regret.

my rose spoke sunlight,

golden honey that dripped from my lips.

until all I could taste was sweet.

kinda pretty

how swirls and tangles of

bright light coalesced

outside my bedroom window.

patches of cracked weather whirl

right outside your closed eyelids

dropping gifts of pure water

and honey

on my heart

as she grew down my spine,

entwining herself between my lungs,

thorns emerged.

energy stagnant, my eyes grew blind to change—

honey never rots, does it?

rainwater crystalized my rose,

honey tears became amber

and my insides a soft pink quartz.

i became a flower garden,

my thoughts voiced in

delicate colors—vocal chords a new.