i can be a person if you give me the chance

new beginnings look something like this:
lavender growing in the deep green of a
garden, the sun as a copper coin pressed
to the sky. you can flip it and tell her what
fate has decided for you today. the ragged
edges of something torn free, a home you
ripped out of your own chest to leave, like
sailcloth drowning in an unending storm.
what is severed can be threaded together,
but the stitches will always show. a lesson
you learned from a young age: your own
blood tastes just as iron as anyone else’s.
your feet haven’t stopped running in years.

brother, she says, where have you gone now?

here, you say, the lavender has grown, it’s
springtime in a city made of flowers, and
you’ve reached the edge of the ocean again,
the waterside you always return to. it’s not
softness, and maybe it never will be, but
there’s a memory like home and a bloom
that unfurls into the sunlight, undrowned.

{ a.s.w. || find me on patreon }