it's okay

I never forget where my roots went
and came.
I fill myself with wistfulness because
I can't seem to escape my lonesome
fate.
It would seem my life is a series
of small flames...
I keep anchoring myself in anguish,
and it all traces back to a flower
i can't remember.
let alone retrace the meaningful arcs
of your face, or understand
the bastardized version
of yourself you became.
we all come from different seeds, it seems,
and mine and yours were meant to meet
but the world is unkind,
and not every future is fertile.
you and i were a bramble of
bad decisions...
but for all the thorns I struggled in,
I hope I never forget those days.