The Plants in my Room are Dying

What phantom water can revive
the remnants of these roots?
On the brink of being alive,
breathe deep sweet air.

My sugar-prone sweet tooth
gluttonizes punishment
like their flowers move
to bathe in abrasive sunlight.

Depetaled now—barren—
where can they turn?
The bright glow they crave
parches tongues—burns.

The plants in my room are dying
and it's your fault as much as mine.
2

You might also like…

Poetry

Back to School

Céline Laurent

Thomas had put on his best new school shoes, since it was the first day of the new year.

This morning, when the alarm had gone off, Thomas had woken with a jump.

But now that was already an ...  [+]

Poetry
Poetry