The Flower

Why do I love you?

Why have you remained through the pain and shame of birth

As the redemption on my shoulders; the inconspicuous angel?

Why did I understand you, unlocking the secrets of your heart,

That not the hounds of hell had heard in hundreds of years?

Why are we both older, but still the multifoliate diamond glistens in those tears?

I was moved to move you, as honesty had not heard before;

I pleaded you to keep me in, and not close that door;

Because I was made to withstand storms and shipwrecks,

Preserving just the rose hidden in a glass-bell;

Or else nothing I have said before has been of value to society’s lips,

And we shall all remain fools of happiness.

And your sweetness as the product of a damaged world,

Is a lesson to us all that remains unheard.

And though your devotion to society has not strayed from its path,

Your essence is untouchable through the aftermath.

How did I know you?

Like the auburn colours of your autumn hair,

Strolling so sedately through the masks we wear.

I thought I found you, amongst all the people you have been,

But sometimes words cannot reach through manipulation of sin.

I loved you then, because even though you spoke so little,

You held a sturdy candle at your heart, and continued shining

For your continuation and a new start.