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Dear Dahlia
won't blossom
listening to my exhausting,
fumes,
returning pure airs,
yet wilting
gathering dust
parched from thirst

thirsting for
the burst of bloom,
I paced the room,
dripping syringes of
distilled water,
bottled feeding,
spritzing, misting
leaves, shedding
light and untangling vines
reclaiming the
buds of my own
life

…transplanted outside,
she flourished