It began in the basis of her belly

A seed, layered in fat, corroded by acid sprouted it’s very first root

A root that held her core, planted her soles to the ground

She was stagnant so her heart fell sick with bitterness, she would suck lemons like sweets

The plant germinated hungrily, unforgivingly

Injecting her veins, draining her blood to quench its thirst for the purity found only in the contents untouched by the calloused hands of the world

It praised for the rains that showered down as she swallowed the collected saliva in her mouth

Sunlight provided from the gentle hum she would sing to soothe herself that allowed her belly to grow warm with friction

Unknowingly she fabricated an environment for the young pip to bloom

She alone was unblooming

Vegetative

The juvenile verdure directed her energy to develop foliage and stems

She withered under exhaustion, spending her time indoors, cocooned in a wall she built with her bare hands till bloody

Not realizing that caterpillars cannot transform in such conditions

Butterflies cannot mount without a sky

She had begun a battle with the plant, she had no strength to locate her white flag

The first flower blossomed at the base of her throat

An azure Begonia, unheard of yet brandishing colours so loud her ears ached with ringing

It’s petals a gradient from the unlittered blue of unexplored seas to the colour manifestation of sadness, to cerulean

Like feathered lips tickling her vocal cords, but still, she was unable to speak

When her father passed away

Ichor leaked from the punctured holes of her oesophagus walls

As thorns erupted from the stalk of the greenery

Agonizing her to boundaries of boundaryless pain

Her throat ached with constriction but her mouth stayed firm

Her wails were heard through the droplets of her tears

She would not even open to allow the salty liquid to sterilize her wounds

They became infected

Years passed and the little girl stood in front of the mirror

A woman stared back at her

Her eyes held bags of books full of stories untold

A question left unanswered

Will a person in a coma awaken fatigued, the conundrum of her life

Her loneliness engulfed her, it had never felt so loud

So she escaped to the park down the street, where the world spoke volumes to her through the trees

As she sat on the mahogany bench and observed the way the colours shifted with every blink of her eye

She noticed a seed

An ovule

A pip

So tender so delicate a lump formed in her throat

As that was when she noticed the seed was kept safe in the belly of a young girl

A young girl who’s body so frail, yet so bold, whose veins were yet to be injected sat by herself on another mahogany bench, invisible to the pitted people around her

She was silent

Without a thought in her mind and with the last of her strength the young woman dismounted the bench

And while doing so dismantled her cocoon

And as she made her way towards the little girl oblivious to the demon that had reproduced in her womb

She felt her back begin to sprout wings

Flimsy, insubstantial, defective wings

But wings nonetheless

And when she reached the little girl her hand outstretched, she tipped her chin upward

And with that, a jolt in her stomach occurred as if with the subtle movement she had tipped the whole world off its axis

The girl’s eyes fell on the woman and confusion flooded her face

She was unaware, broken, lost

She was her

And before the young girl could move away

The woman locked contact with her eyes

And slowly, but without hesitation opened her mouth

And a bouquet fell out