Wilted Things By (Mimi Mata Meyer) Poem by Mimi Mata

I speak of all wilted things as my being
To believe a rose dissipated in the cold
Will never grow the same in the spring,
To feel as the wave does split by all it touches?
A watery soul unable to grasp another completely...
Without drowning it.

Why is this woman so sad?
Or so to say I enjoy a deeper meaning
It is a true phenomenon to love the sun
Only in its deepest shade of red
When readily bending to sink within solitary...

So when I love; I may love too much.
My wrath can be as perpetual.
Are these the consequences of allowing myself to be human?
For I would be lying if I said...
The human heart can always forgive.

Let me not show you my eyes when I cry
Either way I will Never forget your face.
So you see you will remember for I am the same rose
That has grown accustomed to the weather
And I promise to be back the same or different each spring.
I am the watery soul split by all it touches...

So how can I hold?
How do I surrender?
Why are some hearts so ready to be consumed?