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you cannot grow daffodils
between brittle bones-
in ribcages worn down
from a heart beating against it
to break free. you hum
bluebird melodies to yourself
make-believing morning dew
makes it better. you have mistaken
eyelashes for the meadows,
fleeting visions running barefoot-
carelessly, spinning - hoping
spring will come early this year.
your fingertips have never learned
the meaning of earth: discovery
of digging nails deeper into surfaces.
trembling, underneath shifting skylines,
blanketed in wisps of dandelions-
early morning light will not heal
the frostbite creaking in your joints.

he is not coming home today, either.
:iconhaphazardmelody:
haphazardmelody Featured By Owner Apr 8, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
I am seriously just blown away by your imagery.
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:iconlizilicious:
lizilicious Featured By Owner Apr 9, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you ; __ ;
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April 6, 2015
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