anhedonia in blossom—
the warmth of the sun
only skin deep
an iceberg lies submerged
somewhere yet-to-be-seen
while her secrets
rest quietly
others fester
sap oozes from scars
long left by carved hearts
counting the rings
on a transneptunian
moonshadow
the still point
between pleasure and pain
becomes a gem
glistening on petals
as the surf subsides
i return to the center
and awaken as myself