Dear Mom,
You've always said I was beautiful.
That beauty was equated to that of flowers, my love for them but especially my love for daisies.
Their simplicity in being snow white petals surrounding its own sun. I find to be a contradiction itself, but daisies always complimented you.
You held such a caring look, one of a person whose maternal nature was simply instinct.
But I knew, that you hid within you the persona of a rose.
Of a gorgeous beauty, with demons.
Demons that ate you up inside, and isolated you from the reality you lived in.
Those thorns of yours kept lovers at bay, and family five feet away in fear of being pricked.
But,you never hurt me.
The world. Is like a field of flowers.
A meadow.
Each person holds their own,to the flower they are.
I've met sunflowers, with perky personalities who wilted away in the darkness.
Tulips, enclosed in their seclusion but bloomed in the rarities of the moment.
Violets, whose beauty and wild vibrancy caught the eye of a many.
Chrysanthemums whose exuberance and unique name led but a few to see the mystery within..
All friends, family, loved ones equated to flowers.
Yet, I could never keep them for long.
Just like flowers, they would fade, wilt and die.
To leave room for other born.
I met a daisy today.
He was simple in his approach.
But in honesty, he's not like you.
He hides a beauty a love for night.
And, his eyes are old but lives like new.
I doubt he's a rose, because he carried himself as though he knew.
That pain, was ever lasting but he'd always grew.
Grew from the idea, that love would repair him.
That pushing people away would only hindrance him.
He was a daisy.
Unlike the others.
And me?
I'm a rose like you.
-S
