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Buried

Tender creepers grew between my feet and unlatched my still toes. This should be peaceful, I hoped While withered roses gathered just to whisper death-notes to the ground as it read eulogies. I could hear them, turning whispers to screeches, louder than my sirens. I let the corners of my fingers turn pale while I spoke to my fears. And now, I lay still while my nose tip cracks along with my venom-stained lips, When I breathe, I breathe silt. There it grew, a butter daisy stretching, its fibrous radicles from the top of my spine, untagling its way through my entrails, reaching out to my heart. I love so hard I love so loud that it hurts to see you exist. It outreached its petioles to grasp my heart, brushing through the voids and lacerations. There it grew, a butter daisy from a droughted body.


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