"temporary"

A part of me is still fifteen,

a part of me is still five

and a part of me is fifty

although I have not reached her yet;

the skull that I will become

and the decaying matter

that is essentially inevitable

are my greatest comforts.

Time is temporary

and what I do in this moment

will be only an episode in the next.

Roses bloom beautifully

but at one point

they were simply

a seed

and in the next

they will wilt, shrivel, and dry-

I sometimes

wish

I had more time

but then I remember

that the clock is a blessing in disguise

because my regrets

are regrets

but they are not mine

anymore,

they are regrets

of the fifteen year old

and regrets of the five year old

but after seven years I will shed her cells

and bloom into another flower, maybe a daisy

or even a lotus,

and I will no longer be imprisoned

by what I should have been.