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your flower in the snow

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I want to be your flower in the snow.


in a day of darkness, when you are drowning, when you’re on the edge of breaking down and screaming to the sky, i want to be your salvation.

i want to be your stranger on the street, a smile and a kind word turning your day back to the light.

i want to be your island in the storm. i want to be your sunshine behind the clouds.

i want to be your flower in the snow


but I’m not.


People say that I’m sweet

and it’s flattering. it is.

but it’s not true.

oh, thank you, i smile, and it tastes like a lie.

my sweetness is a carefully crafted falsehood

a mask, to hide the jealous cruelty of my thoughts.


he’s ugly, or her voice sounds so awful


i could do better. i am better.


I am your spice to your sugar and you don’t even know it. i am the acid burn of lemonade down your throat once you’ve gotten past the sweetener.


i am the wilted flower in the snow, the posturing balloon-girl blown full of air


that’s hideous. what is she wearing, she looks like a SLUT.

and then

no, no, she can wear whatever she wants. screw the patriarchy.

you go girl.


you look great, i say, and you blush.

thanks, you’re so sweet!


I am poison. i am the delicate flowers of nightshade, the inviting pain of a wooly caterpillar.


I want to be your flower in the snow


i want to be your flower in the snow, your bright spot. i want to be your restoration of hope in the goodness of humanity.

i want to be liked. i need to be liked. your irritation is pain, your dislike torture.


so I am quiet.

i sit and watch and smile,

because to be silent and delicate and kind

is to be your flower in the snow.

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