Lackadaisical

[Left Brain]

"To fire through the rough"
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Last night, I had a dream, that even at this age you had taken the time to weave me yet another crown of petals and roots.
It was thorny, prickled no different than the ambitions we birthed from our hearts and wore on our sleeves.
I preserved it, I cherished it, I looked for the moment that I too could bloom unlike the rot brought by my ambitions.
Though this soil, it has always been barren. Rocky and treaded upon by those that had forsaken it like you and I.
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I know, I can't apologize to you anymore, and as I look in this mirror, something tells me I'll be okay.
That it's normal, to weep, and allow this sobbing of mine to echo within the chamber built by these hands alone.
You and mine, we are a heritage built upon the tears of those we had forsaken along the way. So I say...
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It is fine.
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Today, I fostered hope. It rests comfortably upon the crown of my head, though you hadn't woven it.
So many hands, now familiar dulls that which prickles all that is vulnerable within me.
With adoration and love, I wear it proudly with a smile, knowing that the flames will not consume me.
Instead, I will nurture it, until the realm finds it ready to bless one with a heart as gentle as yours. 
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We know, that you can no longer see, and as I look in this mirror, something tells me I'll be okay.
That it's fine to lean upon the radiance that kills this silence with warm laughter.
Them, and me, we are a culture, birthed from imperfection and ambition.  

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Tomorrow, I... Will there always be a tomorrow? I feel uncertain, knowing that which I love may not be there.

I despise this feeling, I hate this world, but I love them more. So I say...

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They are my friends.