W for Weeds, W for Wings

My love isn't going to save you
I will never make that claim
Eros doesn't move me that boast

I don't expect orbital acuteness
to follow my every breath and step
the ground I walk to garnished with petals

The red that symbolizes the ardor of one moment
isn't diminished after sweet orgasm
but rather fond for even more

Yes flowers will not stay fragrant
wither they will and die
but in your embrace is the sustenance for renewal
as the sun powers the world's life

We shall not cling to each other
as if weeds hoarding soil and air
but take to flight with certainty
that the landing defines serenity

So no my love won't save you
not codependent on the path
but that doesn't mean you must fly solo...