NONCHALANT

I broke myself.
I’m a lost flower in a garden of complexities.
a flower glazed by its aromatic,
minty bell-shaped attire
with an exotic type of silkiness
housed under puffed clouds that felt like art
indulging in the realm of a tropical bliss
with the peek of sun over the peak of mountains,
captivating my dews,
plundering my astonishing petals
leaving me drab and dismal
but I never complained because I longed for rain
that filled the driest parts of me with
hopes
to be blossomed and kissed
by a rainbow of promise to meet again.
why me among the varieties of foreseen perfection?
as nonchalant as the pleasing sounds of the ocean waves dashing against the rocks
creating a sounding melody to the rhythm
that had made headway
to my incompatibilities
far beyond what the universe thinks of me.