Dandelions always have been my favorite flower.
No, not always, but only
When I met her.
But now, she is gone. Ripped away from the soil that is my life, and by the one that had planted her.
A dandelion:
A plant that holds strong,
A plant that is all that is good,
A plant that deserved so much more than the dirt she was planted in.
For even with this, she sprouts everywhere
Yellow petals falling within my heart
Within my blood
But now, they fall from my eyes
As I grasp the ground, searching, seeing, longing.
Where is she now?
Dirt covers my fingers.
Dandelions no longer sprout.
For I live a long Winter, where all I could ever wish for is to see the Spring again.
Damn the snow.
Damn the groundhog.
Damn the frozen petals, falling from my eyes, fracturing in front of me.
For I am nothing without her.
For I have left, yet never given up.
For I, too, was uprooted.
And now, I am exploring a forest, of vines attempting to stab my heart with memories that never happened.
For they call a name that will never be mine, no matter how hard they try for it to be.
They are needles, little pinpricks, that I've learned to ignore.
For they will never bloom flowers.
I have entered a seemingly fine bubble, just in order to reach but fractions of the petals I used to hold, used to love,
And now, I am trapped
The bubble is a wall, that no matter how many times I try and reach out,
The bubble stretches, however does not break
I am locked in a cage of thin wall, made only of soap and water
Yet I am unable to break it.
And right outside of my cage, a garden bed of dandelions.
Petals fly off, landing on the bubble, just out of my reach
Taunting me.
Flowera in my bubble, all poisonous
Towards myself, and each other.
I can reach, I can touch, a lily.
Beautiful as it is
Graceful as it is
I'm in love, with the purple of it, the blue of it, the pink of it.
It forms a heart shape with itself.
However my hands destroy all they touch.
She is the kindest flower, I think.
I love lilies.
More, I love dandelions,
Much less, myself.
