Tattooed dandelions to show that they last forever

Tattooed dandelions to show that they last forever

These dandelions,

they do not last forever they said.

They are the filthy sweat that envelops your underarms and hands each time, 

that buried infatuation sprouts again with a not so welcome but gentle,

Hi.

A bright yellow blanket a thick luminance that did not promise me more warmth, 

but only the spring, 

because this river sadness brought clearly needed a source too. 

Dandelions do not last forever they said, 

their roots in twined in dirt which reflects their filth.

Nevermind the obvious fact,

that they are the highs mother earth brings up like a peeking sun at dusk, 

so as to conquer your eternal lows. 

I took some time...to look at my blistered hands. 

Eons spent uprooting dandelion filth with a repeating urge I thought to myself, 

that whoever said that dandelions do last forever, 

must have fallen for the weed.

I might have had some too,

because I've been trapped in so many an abusive relationship, 

that did not exist not once.

Dandelions I mean.

Them like dreams, 

vaporise in the wind because they too wish they could stretch out far enough to touch that blue sky, 

for a brief moment...or more,

before this brown too is burned again. 

They still grow, 

they are defiant things. 

Their yellow a vicious fire that's yet to burn, 

but unlike the burning bush you will hear no solemn words. 

No response to at least give you an unexpected smile.

Just wind, 

pressed against your brown skin. 

A cold...cold breeze felt, 

that will eventually leave, 

but these dandelions?

...No...they won't.

18/09/18✅