Bloom, flower

The flowers tremble
Harsh breezes reinstate magical memoirs
Their petals once were blankets for a child
A mental barrier from a melancholy reality

And so I crushed the flower in pillow hands
I watched its serum dance down my arm
Like tears were trying to find the way to my eyes

The flower engulfed my senses, it tried to consume me
Before I condemned myself to a mere drip of pollen
The flower became my own destined dinner

Foam, escaping the maw that killed me
Flower, half digested, liquid on its brethren
Fear, myself, a killer; their revenge
Finally

Inside this flower of decadence and disease
I am finally pollinated.