Love Lies Bleeding
crimson of their blooms, so
mockingly full of seeds,
nod their sullen heads outside my window,
bobbing with the wind, dripping,
with the morning’s rain.
The Love Lies Bleeding Amaranth doesn’t
stop reaching for further depths.
Unlike any other flower,
they are ill-fated from the start. They sprout,
bud, and begin their dive,
never reaching for the sun,
destined only to hang in saturated glory, only
able to spill their crimson, only
able to illustrate a life that lasted just eight journal pages.
This morning I cut down all the Loves Lies Bleeding Amaranth outside my window.
originally published on Instagram September 21, 2016