a romantic would give you flowers for your name
then flow smoothly, subtly
with brook bubbling brave-ity.
i heard that lilies are more comfortable
in still water, but not because of, or on
regression is origami intricate.
paper petaled, i grow delicate
stems to be undeniably
i heard that flowers die too,
and it wouldn’t be ironic if i
made my truths
would that be pockmarked, brutalist and beautiful to you?
because it runs down my nerves
past and molten glass:
it gums up my throat
with toffee lies
i’ve chewed this last
i caress it to sand. i need the practice.
so i guess i’ll just ask organically.