Springtime Decay

The pastel petals gliding from your thick branches

filled with blushing flowers and rare greens

remind me of the ashes of a dying bonfire

drifting aimlessly in the wind to oblivion.


The beauty in the struggle of your branches is almost enough to make me forget my own.


Forget the termites that drilled a hole on my left-centre

slipping through the bars of my ribcage

but making sure to leave nests

that drain me of phloem for their nutrition…


Until I’m nothing but a cadaver

Until I am abandoned for something living.



Pull me closer.
Merge your broken pieces with mine,
temper with my palette of colours.
We might end up a hot mess of overwhelming feelings and incomprehensible tastes
but a cubic masterpiece is built of different shapes.
We can be a painting,
Only for us to understand.

20 Sept 2016