I remember giving him freshly picked wild flowers on two random occasion. I would carefully pick out the aphids's before placing them in his hands.
Purple when not in bloom, once bloomed almost so delicate it would blow away like a snowflake.
Those wild flowers... they represented my love for him.
Undying...
Beautiful delicate but undying.
No matter how many times the school cleans the yard of weeds and flowers will always come back, blooming and more beautiful than it ever was.
Strong and delicate.
That's how much I had loved you.
YOU ARE READING
Chasing Butterflies
Short StoryDreams.... art, dance and fleeting memories and music. That I can no longer make sense of. Maybe they never did. Maybe they don't have to. Yet, I've tried. Tried to peice them all together...to sew these.. endlessly t o...
