You were a desert.
and you had a flower,
willing to bloom only for you.

So many suns and moons were coming and going,
And every time they teared up your sand
your flower was there absorbing your pain
and drying you up.
But you kept ignoring it…

And when you finally thought about it,
You wondered why it cut you.

I hope by now you've learned why the rarest of flowers grow from the ashes.

-Sunset S.

Read the rest of my poems/am thoughts here:

(images are not mine)

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