Anthophobia – fear of flowers
Their bursts of color are misleading
Friendly and inviting
Look closely
For those petals form perfect mouths
Open and looming
Waiting to consume you
Enticing you in with their sweet aroma
We have placed so much diplomacy and faith
In those smooth and elegant petals
The grace of the stems
We bouquet them into a mini mob
Of narcissistic splendor
Their little mouths waiting to slowly chew
Away our souls
Piece by piece
As we move in close
To breathe in their sweet scent for one brief moment
For that is all it takes
For you to lose yourself
Lose every memory
Around their pistils
Their stigma is our weakness
We are all prey to something
Maybe our predator banks on our shallow side
And truly we are the weak and fragile ones
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