Life?

The wall offered a whisper; the bloom answered in blood, and between the pale drape and the dark stem, silence chose not to survive.

 Instead, it woke in crimsons, plums, and scarlets, a slow pulse breathing life into every petal. In their stark contrast, simplicity and violence marry, complementing one another like an ink stained story written across a blank page. 

Subtle yet bold the blossoms tell a story of romance and mystery. Of darkness against the light, of life against death. 

They ask for nothing. Yet share so much. 

Silent they stand. Bringing life to whomever dares drink  their intoxicating perfume.  Bringing death to those who consume too much. 

Stark they stand awaiting your stare. Awaiting your touch, your dreams, your desires. 

The flowers aren’t just arranged; they are an altar to appetite, where beauty ceases to be polite and becomes an invitation to drown. To lust, and just as the flowers will wilt, decay and crumble to dust such is life.