growing wings | Completed

05. hurricane at the back of my throat

     i have never taken pride in my ignorance,

nor have i ever been eloquent with my words.

      i've always thought i've had an ocean for a mouth,

and she was a hurricane at the back of my throat.

      foaming with words, threatening to spill out in messes,

i've never been good with words, the same goes to how i am with people, i guess.

     but whenever it's with her, my ocean is drained of all its water,

and in its place is the desert.

      she is the book hidden underneath my wall of bricks,

her very existence indirectly impacts me.

     like the princess and her peas,

but she's the peas, and i'm, well, not a princess, but a prince.

      except, she doesn't believe in love,

      and i don't believe in fairy tales.

      it's been a year since i've last spoken to her,

and it's spring now, with flowers blooming and yearning to grow into beautiful things.

     i'm still waiting for my time to grow into something beautiful,

and i'm getting tired of waiting.

     but she's been beautiful from the start,

she never needed any growth.

     but her soil is poisoned, her roots are crumbling,

and her petals are withering away.

     and it's only spring.

     i decided i'd tell her to uproot and move to a safer place,

but who am i to tell her?

     when my roots aren't even adjusted,

and my flower hasn't blossomed.

      - hurricane at the back of my throat