Annar in the Inbetweens

The Breaths Of Dying Flowers and Sleeping Children

This room is like sleeping beside wilting flowers
breath in, breath out
the trickling of petals
the downfall of handpicked, altered, and selfishly exchanged bouquets
This room is like carbon monoxide dizzy spells and talks of hell

We need to leave and let this die;
things are catching fire like the stars.