I invented you when
I was travelling into the trees.
The lilies bent as I filled my arms
with red roses, breathing my hopes,
embroidering the future.
I invented you when the moonlight
blessed me.
Hung in the Milky Way
I was sewing the shy morning,
I was weaving your silky soul out of aloe vera
and lavender: the oils of my dreams.
This mystery I tattooed under
my skin, my honeyed moment of beauty.
Barefoot, I was wild,
I was an empress for a second.
I was almost perfect.
Now I am nothing forever.
I can’t reinvent myself.
I can’t recycle the past.
The wind blew my pink candle.
Nothing glows in me.
The delicacy was lost.
(So shall it be)
Karla Bardanza
This is very sad to me. To value yourself as having no meaning because you cannot relive old dreams, or feel to reinvent yourself to get them back. Very sad. I see the pink candle as all hope blown out for good. Yet you are a princess perfectly barefoot in the field of flowers. This alone shows you have a fragrance you just don't know. You can't see it for you are too close to the forest to see the trees. tc
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