My mother grew a garden everywhere she went, inside the hearts of everyone she met.
She planted lilies when she laughed, daisies when she started drunk dancing and roses when she smiled.
If you watched closely you could see them growing in the eyes of her lucky souls.
They look like fireworks behind their eyes as they bloom.
She worked on mine for seventeen years.
She planted the seeds when I was born, and continued to nurture them.
She watered them with her kind words and actions, and her smile brought them sunlight.
When she left us, the aching in her chest was the only confirmation I needed to know that my garden had died.
My garden that she worked so long, and so hard on was now a bunch of memories.
My inner beauty that used to be filled with bright colors is now a pile of black rubbish.
Fast forward nine months,
I'm almost nineteen now and I am here to tell you that it does get better.
My boyfriends' company has been watering my garden.
Between him and my papa, they nourished it back to its full potential.
The colors are dimmer than before, but every stem grew as tall and strong as before.
As tall and strong as they were before she left, but only she had the cure for the colors.
My brightness will never be the way it was when she was here, but she was such a big piece of me.
A piece of her is still with me, giving me the power to be the person she always knew I could be.
YOU ARE READING
Radiant Sorrows
PoetryA collection of my poems. Hope you enjoy. <3 Trigger warning; There is no telling the things that will end up in this story. Be prepared for suicidal thoughts, self-harm, depression, death, grieving, and drug use.
