Nectar
I feel the waves of my sorrow
crashing against my brain,
recrafting my mind,
melancholy is a beautiful sculptor,
using her tides that flow through me
like streaking fingers
to reshape my mind
into a beautiful clay vase,
she picks dark flowers from my past,
and places them into the vase,
she paints the vase with images
that slipped down my mind
and are stuck in my heart,
leaving me in a constant state of suffocation,
she places my brain, filled with black blooms,
on her front porch,
you got attracted
and now you are having tea with her.
I am sorry.