the bloom is lost

she closes herself
as petals
do on a rose
in darkness,
she needs light
and air
and water to keep
who she thinks she is
alive.
the admiration of others.
but the dirt is cold
she sleeps
in. her shallow breath
a desperate
effort to be relevant.
the weeds are at her
feet,
she's stuck, she's awake,
she's asleep.
the bloom is lost.