Poems and Other Random Things

Unrequited

   Under the blistering heat of the summer sun, we dug holes and planted our emotions and memories in them. We took care of them together, cherishing and watering them, letting them grow. They were beautiful and we were happy.

   One morning I awoke and found a new plant growing in our garden. I didn't recognize it but I figured it would be beautiful, just like the flowers that were blossoming in our garden then. I watered it and took care of it, along with the others. When the flower began to blossom, it was different from the rest. It seemed so unique and out of place among the yellow roses, sunflowers, and gerbera daisies. In a field of sunshine, my strange flower stood out. It had pink petals, and white petals, blue petals, and red petals. It was odd, but I cherished it nonetheless. 

   Excited, I brought you to our new flower, hoping you'd like it and maybe even know what it was. You didn't recognize it either, but you helped me water it every morning, just as we did with our yellow flowers.

   As months passed, it grew and grew and grew. It became the main focal point of our garden; it was all I could see. Of course, I still tended to the other plants, but I started to water the multicoloured curiosity a little more than the others. Luckily, you watered the rest, keeping them from wilting. 

   As our garden changed from a strictly yellow colour palette, so did we. I found my cheeks matching rosy petals when your blue eyes met mine. I found that I could relate to the calm blue-gray petals when you were around. I felt like a child around you, innocent as the white petals. And yet there was something else. Something I didn't recognize. Something I associated with the red petals, though I couldn't figure out exactly what it was. Something that would spark inside me each time you did something dumb or sweet or cute or... I started to understand what the flower truly was after that.

   Eventually, I fessed up and told you what I believed the flower could be. You stopped watering it after that. You only focused on the sunny background. So I tended to it myself. It wasn't enough and I soon realized that it was slowly wilting. It drooped and the petals lost their bright pigmentation. I begged you to help me take care of it, but you insisted that our garden should only consist of saffron shades. And with that, I also lost my bright colour. 

   I couldn't bring myself to water any more plants. I left you to do it yourself. The task that was once the highlight of my day became a chore, a burden, a nuisance. I refused to even attend to the flower that represented how I felt for you. What was the point if you wouldn't help it grow? It was our garden after all, each flower being a part of both of us and our feelings towards one another. 

   I realized that you also had that flower growing... but elsewhere. The same flower, but more unique to yourself, of course, had began to blossom in a garden you shared with someone else. Someone who had that type of flower with another already, though a thorny one at that. Your flower also stood out amongst the yellow tulips that filled that garden. I could only bitterly hope that your flower would also wilt, just so you would know how it felt. 

   I eventually went back to watering the honey-coloured display we'd spent months growing. I left the multicoloured oddity to wilt and die. I had tried to dig it out and remove it for good, but its roots were too deep and persistent, clinging to the chance that the flower could grow to its full potential in the garden it'd started in. I gave up on removing it and planted more yellow plants in its place to cover up what once had been the highlight of our garden, at least, in my eyes. You seemed content with this.

   Things went back to normal, as if the odd occurrence had never happened. We continued taking care of our sunny plants, and I never confessed that a part of me wilted away with the miraculous beauty. Never again did I feel the rosy colour rush to my cheeks the moment your blue-gray eyes met mine. Never again did I feel the childlike innocence, nor the odd relief of calm I once allowed myself to feel around you. Never again did I feel like I could maybe fall in love with you, as passionately as the crimson-tinted petals my flower once opened to reveal.