Seasoned

I found you in the darkest hour

there all along

heavenly distraction

a patched haven.

But I was quick to recoil,

retreat in the shadows.

Like a flower picked too soon

wilted away

bleeding scattered veins

never to fully bloom.

August, a broken-down car on a fiery summer day.

 

You found me a downward spiral

oblivious

How could you know?

You dove headfirst

but I was a budding Columnar Cacti

only to be gazed at

from afar.

Years pass before I fully bloom

short lived with quick withdraw

September, a rusty nail in a perfectly good bicycle tire.

 

We lost each other

month by month

coast to coast.

Distance brought longing,

but long nights alone

crafted sensational numbness.

The first fallen orange stained leaf.

Comfortably isolated,

reminded of all I have to offer myself.

October, ground shifting beneath bare feet.

 

I found myself lying under grey oaks

finger painting futures in milky clouds.

Tingling in daydreams

nightfall sparks

a blossoming fire within.

There were no more barriers.

Embroidered petals on a crescent flower moon

Wind whisked skin

November,

extend the stars, embrace the heavens.

 

– Breelyn Shelkey