There was once a place I thought


Shouldn’t I have?

But blood escaped my veins

And waited patiently under my skin

In the place where my love should have been.

My sanctuary was a night garden.

Flowering vines grew around my body

And curled around my throat like a necklace.

I carefully tended every dark bloom

While I feared their poison.

Was that darkness so comforting after all?

I thought I was more beautiful for my scars.

I thought I was.


do you believe in always, the wind said to the rain
i am too busy with my flowers to believe, the rain answered
— e.e. cummings