The Boy With Flowers

twenty one

people pity the dead

even if they didn't kill them

when my dad died, all I received was pity

pity, pity, and more pity

it got tiring after a while to say "thank you" every time someone apologized

I just want to yell at them and tell them that it wasn't their fault

but I kept quiet, for my mom

I was pulled out of my thoughts when someone sat down across from me

that someone was him

with his brown curly hair looking flawless

and his beautiful marigold sticking out of his shirt pocket

"hey" I decided to start the conversation

all he did was look at me

I could see the small specks of gold mixed in with his green eyes

and then he did the most beautiful thing ever

He smiled