Enter into the garden and behold the beauty of your delicate orchid….attempt to grasp something that may wither subtly, so silently understand the insubstantial feel may invoke-pain…
The plan is…the plan was….deferred and now I have this open wound beginning to heal…you have…quiet.
Push past weeds of vague possibilities seeing that you have arrived…in the fragrance of my undisclosed address… Can you see butterflies retarding from frivolous intentions….their path designed a unhappiness that I wish not to disclose…enter into the closed door….enter in and find black walls wishing to be painted with light…
My question are imploring….So tell me, how do you feel…really?
Is this something that you want to hear?
Is this something that you are able to play?
Questions that lie dormant….not truly deserving an answer…no answer truly being possible…actions can only satisfy what really begs the difference…
And I can not hold my tongue any longer….your presence lifted into my reality has found a home….Unable to detect where it’s placed… But it’s my obligation to locate the floor to trap it… to inspect it…to clean it…later finding that it was never there...
My aspirations now compounded by ominous growth that entered the garden….Showing that the life of this delicate and wonderful orchid is vanishing.
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