by krstaten

You are not a fucking
flower, okay? I mean,
you are. But not because
you’re beautiful. Not that
you’re not beautiful–

it’s just that the way
you’re like a flower
is more like the way
a tulip buds. How
it starts off small.
How it looks so weak.
Not that you’re weak–but
hear me out. You, too,
once looked like a bead
cracked in half. Not yet
learning to take up space.

You once looked like
an explosion. Color where
there shouldn’t be. Veins
red on pale, threatening
to exist. You once looked
like a goddamn fish, trying
so hard to swallow air,
pure air, unfiltered, fins
clawing at the suffocating
openness. When you opened
you looked at first like something
dying, but you’re getting there.

I don’t want to get too
sentimental. You’re not
a fucking flower, okay?
But hear me out. One day–
I promise you, one day–
you’ll learn to be
bigger than what you’re
made of.