Flowers I Never Picked Up By Victoria Daka
flowers I never picked up
she walked into the field,
stormed ahead of me,
kicking the leaves and sticks and
“darling look at all the petals wasted
on all those bending stems,
the colours are too vibrant against the
me, my heart a wild flower and body
a forest fire that only a mother could
pink, the lips
and the flowers
and the sunset,
all alike and all anticipating a catch
of the bouquet, waiting for their turn.
when you blow away the ashes,
are the flowers i never picked up.
the scorch marks of failure.
it’s been hard lately,
when everything is so familiar.
is like singing the same song
over and over;
the heart of midnight
and you fall down
next to me.
it’s been easy lately
to fall back
into the beds
of old habits.
knock back that bottle
until you can’t cry
there’s plenty more where that
At the age of fifteen I had decided that enough was enough, I didn’t want to live anymore. I
was caught in this awful downward mental spiral, trapped in my own mind and convinced
there was no point in anything or anyone. I wrote this book about myself, about what it was
like for me to be at this low point and how everything felt. These poems are a window into
my past, and serve as an acknowledgement that these events occurred. Motivation to write
this book came from an idea for an entire new genre of poetry, which I’ve decided to call
‘blanket poetry’. Not everything is from the same point in time; everything is kind of a
whirlwind of thoughts.
It was difficult at times having to remember all the hurt, but it was worth it.
In this book I talk about love, hate and hope. I want this to be read as a story and not just a
series of poems. I want you, the readers, to be able to see the shifts in mood, time and
space from start to finish. I want those who read this to see it as an incomplete testimony,
there will always be more to say and I will always have more to write about.