Flowers in a Field

There were flowers that grew in a field,
Out of the way; they bloomed concealed.
Who needs a more peaceful place
To end in the future’s face?

I miss the words that made you cry.
I miss the bed where I longed to die.
I miss the birds that never knew the sky
And in my head, life was a lie.

Breathing in the tide of the blossom’s bed,
The blooms of shores where horizons bled
Aged suns that never shone before…
From my lips, the nectar of decay
Dripped as I dared speak no more
The words I had longed to say
On the edge of the horror
Of the deaths I lived by day.

The petals of every bloom
Kissed the air with sweet perfume.
Was there any better land
For the self-slain hand?

I miss the words that made you cry.
I miss the bed where I longed to die.
I miss the birds that never knew the sky
And in my head, life is still a lie.

© 2021 Marten Hoyle