Knives over Flowers

you live between atriums

split somewhere

I don’t hate you

I don’t love you either

I wish you well

well away from me

a lily, a butterfly

delicate like the fuse

to your unconsciousness

deep brown but not hollow

just empty

not poured out, just never filled

not an enemy, not a friend either

2 responses to “Knives over Flowers”

  1. I saw myself as a plant blossoming through a crack in the concrete floor looking up enviously at the plants in the atrium that were chosen to be there. I’m on the outside looking in, not entirely convinced I want to join them and live their life, but filled with wonder by the prospect of it all.

    Liked by 1 person

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