Wisps Of Begonia

Call me Begonia! I use she/her pronouns Just a blog of literature for those who may find it relatable :)

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The Last Dance

Our photos still haunt me sometimes,

And I’ve yet to get strong enough to turn away.

I try to fight the pain, disguise it,

But we are my burden, my shame.

And I feel as though I should regret being

Selfishly in love with someone

Who never loved me in the first place.

Because then, do I really know love’s face?

Will she, too, dance with me, kiss me,

Only to turn the other way?

Just to leave me with a twisted and blurred memory

Of something that I can’t ever recreate.

-begonia

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Should someone tell me again how I feel

about love

knowing that they were one of the people who

made me ashamed,

I will continue to scream and thrash

until it all hides away.

Stop giving me unsolicited advice.

Please.

-begonia

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A Flower, Not a Book

Is it possible for me to be more

than my petals?

Could I be something you read,

understand as you keep turning pages?

Please do not destroy me to become

the expectations you have.

Allow me to be what the author intended,

with footnotes and highlights to help you understand.

Tell me that even if I look plain on the outside,

you’ll look beyond the cover and know me,

see me,

love me.

I don’t want to be left in a vase,

with a little sun and loss,

drowning on the counter dying.

I don’t want to be forgotten when

something prettier comes along.

Tell me that I won’t be trimmed to fit that vase,

Losing the values that grounded me in the first place.

Please let me be more than a face,

more than just my body.

Tell me the thing you love most about me,

is my tender heart,

and not my rotting flesh.

-begonia

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When your grandmother says I’m still her girl,

I sigh behind a smile, hiding my tears.

I wish I was still your girl.

-begonia

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A Letter to the Moth on My Window

You are small, but your wings are intricately carved,

Your tiny appendages tap gently at the glass.

My hand passes over, witnessing the desperation

Your need to be warm.

And suddenly I am filled with guilt.

I am sorry that I am keeping you from

Feeling that warmth.

Like Icarus, you are so close to the sun,

Yet I stand in the way of the one thing you crave.

I am sorry that you cannot reach the flame,

The pale light inside of these warm walls.

You will forever watch from the outside

As others are easily able to bask in the light.

Is it cold outside until you touch the dawn itself?

Because even in the light, you stumble as if it’s still dark.

I watch you, unbearably guilty.

I know how it feels to love, yearn, and want, but only receive confusion, closed doors, and the absence of the very thing you crave.

Warmth.

-begonia

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Geranium

Before I know what’s happening, your hand is on my face,

You’re in my space.

Your arms are snaked tightly around me,

Oh, sinfully so,

And I want to beg you to never let me go.

This dance, I swear we’ve done in before,

You promising to be my rock so that only you can break me,

To open up to me lovingly, then to slam the door,

To give me your comfort, then simply ignore

The size of the crater you’ve left in me.

This familiarity, it’s us.

It’s young, it’s fun.

I want to chase those lips and beg your laugh to light my world again,

Set me on fire, leave your mark, dig in

Let my skin be a testament to your presence.

But you’re gone. Your love, a dream,

An apparition, a ghost

And I am cursed, I am haunted.

I miss you the most,

I loved you the most.

And I will never be a child again unless

I can forget your love,

Until I forget your birthday,

Until I forget about the fact that you left.

Your arms were for a moment safe.

And now, I am without the comfort and warmth of your love.

-begonia

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Serendipity

I wrote this for a prompt on The Poets’ Porch and myself :) @picklemafia

I think to my loneliness and wonder

Is this my forever?

Lingering, longing

Torn asunder.

Then I think maybe the world is being merciful,

Saving me from broken bones and organs,

Giving me a chance to sleep

No disturbance, isn’t it wonderful?

Of course I’m young, I crave to be held

But there’s more grace in the journey by yourself

To be more honest, more fair to what’s inside

There are less words to hide, less lies

And of course I watch with wonder when

People describe love and it’s finite nature

Loving, yet knowing you’ve made your bed

With grief for the sake of a love that lasts till death.

So in my loneliness, I will be serendipitous

Because the only way I can lose now

Is to give up on myself.

-begonia

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It’s not like can hate you forever, pretty eyes,

Calloused hands, eyes still like the sky,

Those pretty eyes, they rarely cry.

Whether or not what we had was real,

I will forever be cursed to feel

Some sort of love for you.

In my heart, you’ll always have a home

Don’t be afraid, you aren’t alone,

I can’t stay with you, this I know.

But my love, should you need me,

You won’t have to run very far.

I’ll be walking slowly,

Still here, with open arms.

-begonia

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Tonight, the nostalgia pulls back my hair and rubs my back.

The clothes I’m wearing are simply a mockery of what we had.

-begonia

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Fuck,

did hearing about love always hurt this bad?

-begonia

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The internal turmoil burns, like hellfire.

Is this eternity in damnation? To claw towards what you wanted but did not earn; to watch the very thing you wanted turn from you, as if it did not know you?

How you scream until your throat is raw, even when your lungs and throat can no longer produce a sound. Guttural cries drowned out by the darkness, gnawing at your humanity.

Silence is thick; viscous. But the thoughts are still loud. The wounds are fresh and eternal; why would they ever leave?

I long to forget. Please, God. Let me forget him.

-begonia

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I removed myself and still feel uncomfortable.

I still feel like there’s an explosion inside of me,

The impending doom threatening to eat everyone alive.

Because the weight must be heavier,

On my paper weighted soul.

I’m tired of being beaten down,

With nowhere else to go.

If only I had a simply place

that I could call home.

-begonia