daisy

there is
a daisy
in a dented
coffee can
on the windowsill
over the sink
a spadeful
of soil
with the
flaccid flower
leaning
against the window
as if
homesick
for a home
it never knew
while i
whisper soft secrets
in life giving
breath
only for
the dejected plant
to wilt
even worse
perhaps
the secrets
that wrap
themselves
around my chest
are truly
rusted chains
too heavy
for such
a delicate soul
to handle
mine
or
the plant

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