(I feel so pretentious and stupid when I write poetry??!! This is truly a first attempt and I like to challenge myself so here goes nothing please feel free to ignore the shittiness of it — poetry; unlike prose feels so unnatural on my fingertips)
(if you read this and you know me: please drop me a message and tell me what you think of it ahh poetry's really not up my alley at all and feedback is vital for improvement right? okay, i ramble, i'm sorry-)
Spring
Gingersnaps are your favourite scent
— yet they have no place in Spring
The time of flora versus fauna, or
perhaps they work in perfect synthesis
(either way it is no home for the spicy sweetness of the Fall snack)
Just like you,
a purple tulip when there are only sunflowers spilled on the walkway
— do not trample —
(you do anyway)
My favourite part of Spring is when the snow melts
because
it feels like one beautiful thing evolved to another;
and when do you ever hear stories of that?
The caterpillar to a butterfly
The ugly ducking to a swan
The frog to a prince
It is as if
morphing requires a certain degree of ugly beforehand;
as if
evolution only befalls the unattractive;
then how are you more beautiful each day?
(tell me your secret)
Do you inject the ebony petals of the flowers that bloom in Spring into your veins?
Do you bottle Spring air and inhale it as if it were a drug —
filling your lungs with loveliness?
Or do you eat crushed flowers for breakfast?
(tell me your secret)
You are Spring with eyes and lips
You are Spring with teeth
and blood (lots of it)
Promise me this, love:
(don't tell anyone your secret)
I cannot grasp Spring's arms and hold it's mysteries in my palm
I cannot embed Spring's touch under my skin
I cannot misplace Spring's toothbrush; only to find it on the kitchen sink
Spring is a common amenity:
I am forced to share.
(don't tell anyone your secret)
Let you be mine to keep:
my own Spring; to last me through the three remaining seasons