The flower in my soul
The flower in my soul,
Shes beginning to whither away
She has spent her life
Making my body her home,
As her body had been mine.
The flower in my soul,
She has grown for thirteen years
Her pollen on my fingertips, her scent inside my veins,
She has blossomed in every way she knew how–
I guess
she ran out of things to teach me,
I guess
she ran out of songs to sing.
Her pollen no longer sits beneath my aching fingernails,
But I still feel her
Everywhere inside of me,
I still dream of
The songs she’d sing;
ringing in my ears
as I fall to sleep
missing her.
The flower in my soul,
She has named every part of me
She is my skin and hair, she is my lungs and bones,
But I guess
I am more of her,
then she is me,
For she has begun to wilt
For she must be on her way...
And I am still right here.
The flower in my soul,
The most beautiful flower I have ever known,
For you can not see her, or smell her,
You can only feel her.
This flower in my soul,
I have gathered all her petals,
as I watch them fall to my feet,
Soon there will be nothing left of her;
And so I must love her now,
While she is here in my arms.
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