dry-flowers

6

You showed me how to love; You taught me how to care. Soon I learned to worry, And found out how much I could bear. I gave everything away, Well, everything that mattered, But the pieces you returned Were dirty, crooked, shattered. Though I knew how to fight, For you, I would give up. Now there’s no halfway point - It’s just an empty cup. But the saddest part of all Is the reason that I cry: In the field that is my life, I’m watching all the flowers die.

These are the roses from valentine’s day. I think they’re so beautiful, how they all look different, how they tilt to different directions. This happened for a silly accident; I forgot to wait until their blossom before I peel off the leaves (so they fit in this tiny pot I found).

Somehow this makes me think a lot, about life, about people. Most of us here are in the stage of life, hoping for the day we’re fully blossom; to be beautiful, to be like everyone else.

But we forgot how beautiful we already are, in the right people’s eyes. Even if we’re deprived of some things in life that lead us to blossom, like freedom to do what we always want to do, like happiness and love that we deserve, we still blossom as much as we can. And the best thing is that we’re all beautiful in different ways.

P.S I’m probably being too sentimental here, or maybe I’m just being mad how my boyfrd’s big brother got his girlfrd a huge bunch of premium roses (those are sold at such a high price cuz they look exactly the same, even the length!), and she just put them right next to my beautiful little flowers, covering all the light, stealing all the air aaargh.