Photo by Sigra DeWeese
Flower Cycle: Lilacs
This is not sweet love
It is not hope or
Longing looks
It’s the stringent
Smell of fear-sweat
Prey in my own neurons
Because nothing
Makes a heart race
Like the unknown
Flower Cycle: Pink Rose
You ask how long you have to wait to kiss me
And I barely get the words out before you do
There is, of course,
Some small withdrawal
You are admirable in your admiration
But I have a ways to go yet
Until I find the means to accept it.
Wanderer
I have cooled on you.
Stranger things have happened but
I haven’t met them
Kindergarten 