i wish my lungs were floral on the inside and that every exhalation dispelled a scent of baby’s breath. i wish my mouth wasn’t coated with thorns cutting my tongue with every sentence spoken. words are hard to translate when they are coated in blood. i wish my secrets weren’t vines climbing your trellis, covering your windows until you are held up inside. your love could never be shears. you have grown much too dull.
my eyelids are heavy and i can’t breathe and my skin is cracking from wanting you so much