Violet

I think there is hardly any other You asked if I wrote
I didn’t want to put this down
As I know it would be violet
The color of the forget-me-not
The kind of flower I plan to put on my tomb
The day I come home

Who would bring flower
To their death
Right before
They leave
But I
Have the forget-me-not
Only some minutes
Before entering the road

I am ready to feel my knees
Scratch on the road
At this speed
I am not sure if I can fly
I am sure I am flying
And it would set free
My soul from my body

People would find me: “Bleeding, breathless…”
“Holding the flower… in violet…”

A poem by VBN from NAME | Art Space