a single flower hidden in the bramble pulls you into the poison.
The perfect moment before the itch you can’t scratch leaves you wanting.
Beg the flower’s forgiveness for leaving her to grow.
For not returning to see her beauty for fear she will not be there to please your eager eye.
Memorize her petals
—the spots on her leaves that tell of an injurious past, of troubled consequences long forgotten.
Every line you love has a story.
Every line you cross is a trigger.
—trip them with care.