The Flowers Are Bleeding

This is a show about feeling.

The Excruciating beauty that underlies each heartbreak and every goodbye.

the delicacy and brutality of loving.

the sticky sweet love that stops you from breathing until you drown on it.

the soft crunch of a dead bouquet you keep as a stabbing reminder of a sunnier day,

the photos that pop up at random that twist the knife a little deeper.

The tears that carve canyons in the unseen parts of the heart until you break it yourself.

The shreds of a reflection you can’t smile at or even recognize anymore.

the seconds that pass you by while you bleed out alone cleaning up the mess of yourself.

The tension that shreds your soul.

the silence you hold to keep from saying the wrong name as you try and forget it.

The realization that maybe you never will,

the strands of longing that tie you to the knives of hope that maybe you would one day get to love again.

the blood we spill and don’t see.

pain and pleasure. an age old tale.

flowers. an age old poem.

love. an age old disease.

the flowers are bleeding.