My blood has evaporated
Wilted am I as roses untouched. Delicate and brittle are my leaves and bones.
Head hung low as petals weep. Life has dried me. Dark and depressed, gloomy and stressed, my body takes the form of a wilted flower. Safely kept am I, though, by sharpened thorns dispersed, protecting every angle of my heart and mind. Sharply pricking harmless hopefuls who with their words try to woo.
Unable to control the placement of spikes on my stem, I become ashamed.
It is not my fault that I am this hard to claim.
before it’s too late or all this love I have will turn into hate. You’re not so very far away, but I feel more distance with each passing day that I am awake.
I tried. I failed.
The Moon and Sun hover high above the Earth, each suspended proudly in the hands of the heavens like two prized trophies - silver and gold.