linda m crate

sit with me in the rain

everyone loves flowers,

they're beautiful and smell good;

but could you love my

thorns and thistles?

could you love the darkness

lingering in the my forest

after dawn has left?

if you can only love my

flowers,

my laughter, and my light;

then i know you will leave me

alone when it is cold and dark and lonely—

i don't need any more time inside

my head,

i'm so good at making myself sad;

overthinking everything

wondering if anyone truly cares—

sit with me in the rain,

be the umbrella for my storms;

i just don't want to sit here

alone.

because you love me 

they say dead people

get more flowers

because regret is more 

common than appreciation,

this makes me sad;

i want my flowers

now—

what can i do with them

should i be dead?

i can't adorn my hair with

flower crowns or appreciate

them in a vase,

i cannot carry them with me into

the afterlife;

i don't want to be given flowers

because you feel guilty—

i want flowers because you love me.

today's magic 

sometimes i have to

remember i am a 

flower planted in the soil,

before i can grow

i have to face darkness;

and i can't bloom always

like an amaranth try

as i may—

life is a journey not a race

yet sometimes i get

so impatient,

just want all of my flowers now;

but i suppose that would leave

me with tomorrows flowerless

so i must just appreciate

where i am now—

the flowers will bloom where they're

planted in their time,

until then i can only face 

today's music.