Chrysanthemum

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                         i.

 

I tear myself apart like a
Chrysanthemum
yellow petals
dancing slowly on the air,
falling in beautiful slow-motion and
folding in on themselves in a
majestic cacophony of bewilderment
Beautiful in the sense that
Im not afraid to fall apart
But falling apart became
something I was used to

 

Alone in that room
That tape recorder I sat next to
Every time I felt destructive
I hid it between the couch cushions
So that they wouldn’t see
How much they hurt me.






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