A Grim Blossoming
Rust drips off these forgotten memories.
The sweet smell of those distant cherry trees
Their vivid pink center is rather grim.
How I yearn for those pink blossoms,
Beneath them, lurk ugly possums.
But I know they'll never remember me.
A smile; spreading your crooked teeth,
Feeling your skin bubble and seethe.
Alas! Mortals cannot cease their lying.
You weep and smell and breathe and see,
And yet you'll never lay your eyes on me.
Leading me on like a cruel conductress.
Those petals so clear and frighteningly pink,
And, to see them, all I have to do is blink.
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