Spouting

whatever spec of minuscule hope that lurked around in this ill-equipped dryland of a body was shattered. the grass wasn't greener on the other side. as predicted, it was artificial. no matter how excruciating the sound of my cry or destructive the hurricanes of tears that i shed to help it grow, it didn't budge.

far too scared to step out of its comfort zone, it remained parallel to my past self broken, unmendable, and sexually curious about another wearing my same skin. how dare i ask something superficial to sprout with me?

i too feared what would happen when those feelings began to grow. despite already knowing the answer to this question posed and ignored from centuries ago i decided to take a leap of faith. perhaps this is why i barely pray. i reached but fell ten steps below what i had hoped to achieve. my gut feeling was wrong about that which "gave life to me".

scattered in pieces, for months on end, i refused to pick myself back up. wallowing and in pain, i became just as ashamed as the deceiving grass that fooled my eyes. only through bottles of gin and new friendships was i able to sprout into this beautiful plant you surely know nothing about. ready to begin anew, i became the Juliet rose that all along i thought was you. Photo by: J. Victoria Saint-Preux

xo,

saffron