orchid, revised

The room was still save for a floor length curtain flutter floorboards creaking moths breath rustling gauzy arm hairs this is sleep

Suddenly life or tiny fireflies stream and stream and streamed roots to solitary tips of her hair and burst into orchids crowning deathly still visage flowers flourish and nuzzle into stark white sheets wrapping around stark white ankles matching stark white face even an inner wrist petal tickle cannot wake her this clustered bed of proliferation this growth engulfs this growth engulfs and veins section the floor and tether whispering walls orchids are fingers are tethers and wriggle their way through imploded drawers into the corners never dusted around a padlocked tin box holding so many secrets of the world so many secret

And yet still frozen still a statue holding breath still and yet she did not wake

Tended to cultivated cultured white petals stroke her and lull her and stroke and a captivating ruse quietly stemming demise soon the flowered army grew and its soldiers so numerous grapple gobble air sweeping lipstick perfume paddle brush mirror off and now a bare deadwood desk and now roots coiling splintering picture frames and always hungry sprouts take a breath or two while dear slumbering mother bestows life beseeches no one

So she wilts among stark white sheets only the tinted suffocating shade a delicate blue of skin only among a writhing flowerbed of silhouettes

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