Twin Blossoms, by Yixuan Zhao

Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose by John Singer Sargent (USA) 1886

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Twin Blossoms

The last sunset bleeds gold through the paper skin of our lanterns,

and we stand in the overgrown cathedral of our garden,

built from childish giggles and floating pollen,
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hiding ankle-deep in the tide of shadows, lighting our small,

                fragile souls aflame.
 

The strike of a match blossoms in our cupped hands,

our world enveloped in this hushed ceremony, the name of every flower

               carnation, lily, lily, rose

a prayer we whisper to make the moment real. 

 
We are architects of a forever that is already slipping through our fingers 

like the last page of a story we swore

with blood-pacts and crossed hearts, we would never finish.

                lily, lily, rose.

the white of my dress a flag of surrender to the encroaching dark, 

its fabric a ghost of daylight that escapes my childish feet. 

 
Our faces, twin blossoms, 

                lily rose,

turn towards a moon that will not remember our names.

The distant world that waits beyond haven of blossoms and will soon, 

too soon call us away to separate roads. 

 
The garden exhales, a slow release of petals and memory,

leaving behind the ghost-smell of matches, the fragile skull of a lantern,

a scorched blueprint of a kingdom we built that night.

But this ash will scatter,                       

these flowers will forget our names, 

and so I wave goodbye to my childhood and the

                 rose.

Yixuan Zhao

Yixuan (Sunny) Zhao is a high school Junior living in North Carolina who enjoys writing poetry and short stories. Outside of writing, she enjoys playing violin, soccer, and going out to eat with friends!