Blooming

Blooming... Perhaps, it might be something far more cruel. When I see others bloom, my own bud grows impatient. As others' brilliance deepens, the roots of my discord spread further. Then, the moment my reflection appeared in the pond, I finally realized something was wrong. My lover's blooming stirred my malice, and made me curse every moment we spent together. Rather than stopping and cursing my lover's blooming, I will cover my eyes and ears and refuse to face their blooming. For a lifetime, I will make myself turn away from my lover's full bloom. Blooming. How cruel it is.