you'll leave me
and i'll numbly stare at the flowers you got me, sitting on my bedside table
i'll watch them slowly rot, wondering
what about me finally made you give up on us?
i blamed myself for days, wondering why i wasn't good enough. was i ever your favorite flower?
the flowers will die, much like our love,
we weren't meant to be.
your love was harsh,
and mine was sweet,
you loved me when it was easy,
and i love you when you're you.
you loved me in roses.
by any other name would you have been sweet?
i have never been a rose
or anything like one.
and honestly i think roses are quiet ugly,
their abrasive air of confidence.
but, how could they not be?
as the flower glorified, separated from the others,
the most prominent symbol of affection.
but with blood red petals, and sharp thorns
they do not represent the soft, kind love
i wanted with you.
if our love had been peonies
maybe it would have worked out.
but you wouldn't know what peonies mean.
you never loved me like that.
YOU ARE READING
the night the stars fell - poetry collection
PoetryPLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS this poetry collection includes themes and descriptions of: sexual violence/assault/harassment PTSD hallucinations depression anxiety self harm disordered eating in my experience feeling seen through works of writ...
