no. 106


today you brought me written words instead of flowers

each syllable a precious petal, pearly

i would not let them wither,

rather than putting them in a heart-shaped vase

cut crystal emotions amplifying their blooming declarations

i took those words, cut them from their papery confines

with delicate embroidery scissors, exquisite in their sharpness

and with the caution of a philatelist, used miniature tongs

to affix them in a most secret of stores

a diary in which i documented all your acts


(which some say should speak louder)


words, simple yet somehow convoluted

but yours instead of mine

i pressed them like single windblown wildflowers

preserved, stamp-like, between pages

they are more valuable to me

than bouquets

(written 11 september 2018)


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when writing, i am at my most preoccupied with the intricate workings of the world.

7 thoughts on “no. 106”

  1. Oh… such a syrupy and mellifluous poem. There is a humility to positive settling that I cannot explain, but you certainly can — not with words, but with flowers and sentimental fragrances.
    In other days, I would describe this feeling with “shoulders that failed the geography”. A sweetness encapsulated in a moment of emotional satisfaction, inasmuch as it resists any form of reduction.
    Beautiful, Mariah.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. such kind words, as usual, johnny. sometimes i wish that words were more, and often they are not enough. expressing such things seems to be far more possible with poetic forms, and still i find myself floundering to create exactly the right emotion. i love your feeling “shoulders that failed the geography.” i believe that one day i will indeed find just the perfect combination. someday…


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