Sparks in the Dark

Wilted

Years of empty promises and empty lies.

You always said you'd take care of me while I watered your beautiful petals, as the water trickled down the right side never the left just how you like it, with the sun caressing your leaves.

But never when your not in the mood, because I know your body language like no other, so I'll hold a hat over you till the clouds come.
And when its been dark I've held a sun-lamp for you not moving one bit so as to not disturb your delicate form.

I've made it a point to keep your colors vibrant and bright, I've made a point to keep the crust from your leaves, I've even made a point to make sure you always stand tall.

And when you've been low, I've panicked. I've always flown to your side no matter what was happening to tend to your pot, to tend to your beck and call.

I'd whisper at night to your petals, "I love you, I love you, I love you", just to make sure you know.

But when I'm not gazing at you, when I'm not tending to your need, you become poisonous. The poison leaks out into your pot killing the leaves on your stem, seeping down into your soil, wilting and conforming your petals into dull and dark colors, and the sun never hits you just right because you sink yourself into a corner.

Why do you do that?