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My bouquet of dried flowers
December 30, 2025
My bouquet of dried flowers
roses and lavender,
dead and dry.
Standing in My space.
My personal space.
they are godlike.
hogweed and nettles,
burning and blistering,
stinging, not caring about personal space,
growing and not stopping
when it gets personal.
My bouquet lasts.
My bouquet drowns Me.
the dried flowers wither and kill.
the dried flowers want too much.
I say something wrong.
the dried flowers hear.
I give in.
the dried flowers dry
on My remains.
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My first poem, im trying something.
Its about boundries, pressure and being overwhelmed. I think.