Evening Primrose

 

 

The streets opened at night 

diffused notable colors wrapped the slightly cold evening

walking alone turned everything into sepia

memories of the past that no longer tied me

My heart ached for you

My heart ached for the inevitable

My heart ached for the scent that was breaking apart the strongholds of my hands

My heart ached so much that I only saw sepia

The window that I normally didn’t open 

I opened it tonight without thinking

I asked if I were sad but words won’t come out now that the alley outside reminds me of a past memory

Memories I’ll soon forget because I lost you.

What is wrong?

Crying like someone who just lost her mind

Can we stop now?

Why can’t you think about happy thoughts?

Is it so hard to remember just happy memories?

When I bare myself 

When the night looks at me openly

I wonder why I can’t remember memories of happiness

When you are happy it’s easier to feel lonely

When you are down it’s hard to have any other light feelings

Like water, it wraps around you without leaving any room for others

Why is that?

When I have just learned that physical sensations don’t mean anything unless you build a story around it

Here I thought I could take full responsibility for everything

But I’m doing it all wrong, I’ve been told.

Doctor, it must be easy to be like you when you put it that way.

Looking at your calm expression as you write the prescriptions

I guess increasing the dosage makes it all better?

I guess I am just a patient, indeed.

When what you write determines the next path I’ll take

Evening primrose in this blue night

To accompany me in this solitude

The flower that only blooms in the dark 

Too bad they won’t have to see how beautiful you are when you put out your face out there

When your petals stretched out like arms that love the world even though you are all alone at night

Because they don’t know, your memories are erased by morning.

Because they don’t know.

When you hide your face behind the cold wind 

Dancing alone while the rest are dreaming straight till morning

You are there but none of them has followed you sway

traces of your tears when the mist poured you her blessings

Will all be dried up by morning

No one will see you close up

No one will see you bloom openly

Yet you love the world so passionately that while scattering your scent at night 

that while your petals brightly shine

Willingly you offer yourself

Even though the landscape don’t recognize you

Even though the morning won’t remember your scent or the tears that your petals cried.