via Daily Prompt: Blossom

Standing in the locker room
waiting for it all to hush
fabric rubbing tightly against arms
there’s no way in hell this shit is a towel
Maybe it could pass for a thin, white brillo pad;
arms sawdust,
chest hurricane,
kneecaps slowly turning marble;

thoughts slow,
water falls infinitely,

imagining my breath falling down to my naked feet
and the trees of shower heads
bloom like crazy daisies
spraying as they will
the water pressure creating a rainforest
I stand at a threshold,

I’m a flower,
a well of chance and possibility
too shallow to blossom

the twisting vines of fear
suffocate my will to bathe
so I exhale,
hold my breath,
step in,
letting the beads pull away the salt in the dried sweat
letting the time and gravity of water
push and pull my leaves and roots.

drying off,
it’s a bit different,
nothing and everything,
the chlorophyll,
the lines scratched into my skin from the scrub
I imagine that I am a cross-hatch sketch
something doodled in an alien notebook.

It’s all over,
the metaphor of it all,
the words,
the idea,
but my sentiment can’t fail,
the bloom,
the blossom,
you understand,
or you don’t,
and that’s the thing:
this boy
this God,
he is all that there is
as these words progress,
attempt to tell a tale,
try for a series of fictions,
push metaphors,
and you understand,
or you don’t.

either way,
you blossom.


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