Malvae

malva blooms
through the cracks in my bench
mal for darkness of my heart
va for friends I always lose
among the fertile garden
bleeding flowers sprout the thorns
my second skin
built with marble moth wings
a feelingproof cocoon
for my insecurity
I am made of malvas
mal for gloom that eats my soul
va for hearts I always break
drifting in the sea of oblivion
hunting for unreachable stars

… and there is always that lingering thought, on the periphery of the brain: is this me who hurts the toxic people leaving them? Is the me doing wrong, taking care of my mental stability? Even if I knew the answer, there was that guilt crawling inside like a parasite and slowly eating subconsciousness.

But enough with that. I won’t be an ass to myself. It’s enough that others are.