Orange, pink, and violet petals
tumble away in chances winds.
Dreams of love and happiness
become black or white in realities.
The mind a set of airtables
keeps them up with air cushions.
Vivid for moments and maybe years
until we unplug sleep and turn on the lights.
Sometimes they blacken with losses
other times they fade into white petals.
White petals are the peace
we make with acceptance.
Black petals are the cries
that darken the world in our eyes.
In my mind I have vivid petals
but my world is filled with ashes.
There aren’t enough airtables
to tumble my petals nor chances.
I’ve burnt many bridges
but still I look for flowers.