wilt tumblr is no place for you

Up and Down

You called me princess
And placed a flower crown
On my head, with adoring
Kisses along my hairline
Said you’d love me long after
The last petal wilted and fell
It’s like you lifted me up
To play among the clouds
I was high, high, high
Thought I’d never come down

You called me a mistake
And snatched my flower crown
From my head, with aggression
Pulling my hair in the process
Your love turned cold long before
The last petal wilted and fell
It’s like you flung me up
To watch me hit the ground
I was high, high, high
Til I crashed and burned down

Love
is not the strongest emotion
it simmers and sometimes boils
but never does the pot overflow
bubbles rising

I made a mistake once and put a lid over pasta. Do you remember the way it spilled everywhere? An mess impossible to clean, we laughed about it later. We were carefree then, an overcooked dinner meant nothing.

Fear
is not the weakest emotion
it is our protector
a whispering (or screaming) voice
attempting to warn us of danger
trying to pull our feet
away from the flames
before we are scarred from blisters

I was so afraid to tell you I loved you, in case your lips remained sealed, no response allowed to escape. You opened your mouth though, and sound vibrated in my cochlea and pierced my heart. That was the ultimate concept of heartbreak to me then, silence. Not now.

Hate
is neither strong nor weak
to be more sour than the lemon
that sits in your liquor
is only to feel hurt
you become a wounded animal
lashing out in mistaken self preservation

The first night I refused to spend alone so I went to a bar that smelled of lost hope and forgotten sorrows. My only company turned out to be named Jack, and he led me to calling you at 3 in the morning, drunk and begging to hear your voice again. You drove me home. You wouldn’t look at me.

Anger
is to be small
reach for stilts and stagger about
pretending that the world is your equal
petty insults transformed into cruel quips
cutting remarks
that sever bonds of friends
who can no longer try to help

I became a cliché after you, a sad love poem whose words took on flesh and blood. I dyed my hair into a mirage, and wore clothing ripped in too many places. I became a walking storm, with thunderous eyes and lightning tongue.

Forgiveness
is to understand your growth
to recognize that you are a flower
growing in concrete cracks
you have been stepped on and wilted
but still you grow leaves instead of thorns
all the while understanding
he loves me he loves me not
cannot be determined by picking petals
for connections are fickle

Listen

dolores-hazy

Up and Down

You called me princess
And placed a flower crown
On my head, with adoring
Kisses along my hairline
Said you’d love me long after
The last petal wilted and fell
It’s like you lifted me up
To play among the clouds
I was high, high, high
Thought I’d never come down

You called me a mistake
And snatched my flower crown
From my head, with aggression
Pulling my hair in the process
Your love turned cold long before
The last petal wilted and fell
It’s like you flung me up
To watch me hit the ground
I was high, high, high
Til I crashed and burned down

And we sit so close
our knees exchange
kisses when no one
is looking and we’re
sitting on concrete
and bruises, gray
skies and cracked
buildings, but you 
laugh and suddenly
we’re in a garden and
I’m silent as you place
a bouquet of flowers in my
hair, trying to add color to
my empty mind, and I’m trying
not to fall in love, because we
both know these flowers will
wilt, and I’ll be left with thorns
rotting in my mind.
—  You.
People are like plants. Some wilt under the sun and live in shadowy, quiet places. Some can sting you if you don’t handle them gently. All have different, sometimes confusing & contradictory, methods of survival. But they all are beautiful and deserve to live and grow.