I can't express myself through concrete prose right now. I am in love. It is an evil thing. I forgot that love is a solitary act. The below is what I'm feeling right now, expressed in verse.

The bloom

My heart constricts in its daffodil bloom
weakening my fingers to thin petal edges.
Excretes paralysis and simulates a smile
to wash away the bruise of whipped words.


*
I'm a little out of practice. Inspired by Dashboard Confessional's "Stolen", my feelings for D, and loosely based on my daffodil plant that died before it lived. Its death was strange. Half of the plant was in full bloom, half with buds. I overwatered it, but when it wilted, it appeared dry, barren. I remember, a few days before the daffodils died, I was hopeful that maybe the buds would blossom. The flowers that were already in full bloom were brittle in death, but the buds looked alive, soft, supple, like swollen fingertips. The sepals protecting the bud were a translucent green, had a pattern of crisp vertical lines, like fingerprints. So translucent that I could see small pebbles of water inside the sepal wall itself, like eggs attached to an ovarian lining. I guess when we fall in love, our hearts bloom the same way, half filled with joy and pain, live and die similar deaths.