i want your flowers like babies want god's love

I'm back from running away, even though my
bright sprite warned me --
but I feel better and worse at the same time,
like the former hole was filled with tea tree oil
but another dug right beside it,
the soil a little more loose and wet.

i can't give you babies, and sometimes
I let my flowers die
and God and I haven't talked
in a long while.

brb, going to bathe in limestone filtered waterfalls,
like maybe i was pure
like maybe a diamond could be made from the carbon i harbor
when i finally decide that
it would be so easy to get into a car crash,
just a half a turn to the left.
a diamond i will make, to take place
of the one my ring finger will never taste.