Romanticizing Dead Plants

I’ve done more than wish for thorns A dream never becomes reality if you don’t try So I try and tried I salivated over collarbone clay pots and prickly women So I gave myself to the worms Body becomes compost becomes rose petal woman After all, Jesus sacrificed his body And even he got thorns The thoughts the seed, I planted it into myself I watered the soil I worked the ground I became an ecosystem My own fertilizer Illness the seed, The bush grew with the stem My soil plot body did not become more beautiful or strong The bush preceded the bloom There was nothing to grow in the shade of itself I never became nettled I am the soil not the flower I will never be frail AND strong I would sooner be wilted Sitting toothless in a vase Standing tall and dead A corpse on display Beauty borrowed Withered before it’ll be worth the pain I can’t be strong and sick I have to choose But I still water the ground And dream of barbs