Fallen Flowers
Am I a fallen flower?
Torn from the branch by careless winds,
left to wither in the shadows
yet my petals still hold their beauty.
The world sees only what remains:
the unbroken curve of my smile,
the light that lingers on my skin.
But inside, the roots are bruised,
the soil poisoned by betrayal
friends who fled at the first struggle,
leaving wounds too deep to name.
Yes, I am fallen.
But fallen does not mean defeated.
My beauty has not faded,
only folded inward,
a hidden bloom waiting for the sun.
Do not mistake my silence for surrender,
my solitude for emptiness.
I am still here
still fierce beneath the fractures.
But these hands are not yet steady,
this heart still learns its rhythm.
So, admire me if you must,
but do not ask for more.
I am a garden regrowing,
and some doors stay closed
until the light returns.