Meant to Bloom (By Cat Matchuk)
She was meant to bloom,
to plant her feet in the dirt and grow.
She can’t get comfortable,
but wants to throw out
a sober retelling of emotions.
She got burned by the acid and landed amid a crowd of creators, above the rain clouds,
oh so high.
The air was thinner, not meant for human lungs.
A dull pain from the neck to the toes,
as she stretches across the cold stone floor.
Cold thin carpet.
Oak.
Every bone is out of place,
a layer of sweat protects her from the underground cave.
It is summer, after all. And she was meant to bloom.
Uprooted,
an acidic retelling of sober emotions. It doesn’t create flowers.
It doesn’t
bloom.
Can't Not Write 