There are some flowers they say that bloom only at night.
Yours lips are flowers whose petal open only at night.
Your fingers press softly into the flesh of my throat.
Bruises, like garlands of bellflower, adorn my neck tonight.
You pick flowers for their beauty, not caring that this kills them.
You braid my hair, weave in fragrant jasmine that bloomed just tonight.
In the morning, you weave me a crown of daffodils and say I’m your queen.
A diadem limp and browning, withering fast in the summer heat tonight.
Sometimes I pluck petals from daisies and ask if you love me.
You tell me I’m yours, but that doesn’t seem to answer the question tonight.
Spring and summer make promises that fall and winter can never keep.
I reach for you hand, but you pull away. I feel a chill in the air, tonight.
Prompt Day Nine: Off-prompt. I wrote a ghazal instead. Also, didn’t post it yesterday, my bad. Things were a little crazy.