Still, Water Seeps Through The Skien

Herbalism

Lavender falls from my lips
And mixes with the scarlet fluid that covers my hands
I scream as I look at the monster in the mirror
But I choke on them as I cough up roses
The thorns tear away at my delicate skin
I scream because I am the monster in the mirror
My friend lays in the backseat of my Chevy
Dead leaves in her blue hair
I can no longer hear her breathing
Sage stuffed deep in my ear canals
I can smell the leather burn
But the scents of herbs burning assures me that
I am the one burning

My friend is picking the dead leaves from her hair from across the street
Saved from the monster is she
Yet I scream
Because I can never get away from the crimson stained clothes
Unless I'm six feet below the sunflowers
The fire on my eyes reflect in hers and she remembers
That she created the monster
She hopes the sage will bleach the air, the roses will bring positivity
And that the lavender will send me peacefully