Dandelion mind

flower bunches,
throwing punches,
make me a bouquet
of roses and of bruises,
all in red or blue or grey.
contusions and allusions blossom,
pansies are for thoughts,
of which mine are like gossamer-
with difficulty caught.
floating free but hard to see
like proud Arachne's dresses,
and like Rapunzel's hair,
they would ensnare with soft caresses.
i wonder how i ponder
when my brain is made of fluff-
my thoughts have been quite cloudy
since you punched my heart clean off.

The End

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