you always compared me to a flower—frail and beautiful.
but all along i wasn't a flower.
i was the violence in a thunderstorm. i was the crashing of the waves as they hit jagged rocks that lined the shoreline. i was the silent whispers of an eerie forest. i was the weightless air as it tickled your bare shoulders. i was the sound of pouring rain as it hit the asphalt pavement. i was the careless laughter of children playing in a meadow.
i was everything.
and so much more.
and yet, all you saw me for was frail and beautiful. an object for display.
YOU ARE READING
for him.
Poetryyou filled me with love and comfort but i was too blind to realize that i was already drowning and the boy that i'd trusted was the one holding me underwater. so then i learned to never trust your heart into the hands of another.
