One shots.

Yellow flowers

I went to archery practice last night. My fingers were aching after an intense tennis practice just an hour before, my feet wanted to fall off, and my eyes couldn't properly aim. But even exhausted I was alert. Throughout practice, everywhere I turned, there was yellow. Yellow where my fingers pulled back on the bow, yellow where I would concentrate, hoping the arrow would pierce. There were yellow streaks flying through the air from other arrows, there was yellow on the tennis balls hidden in my backpack. There was yellow on my bow case, and it surprised me. Even in the numerous practices before i'd never noticed all the yellow, the yellow wasn't obvious, not until she gave me that yellow flower that she picked from her home.

She brought both of us one. Mine laid perfectly in my bow case, seen to the world but not being able to be touched without invading a sacred place. My yellow flower was protected and secured from everybody else, somewhere I could see and smile, know it won't get hurt by anything, even on accident.

He on the other hand broke off the stem and wore it on his ear like it was a prize. By the end of the night I went home with two flowers. He had gotten bored of the small, plain-jane like flower, dropped it on her bow case and left. But I brought mine and his home with me. Now they sit at home, in a cup, filled with water, trying to stay alive for as long as they could.

Because I want to stay with her as long as I can, stay alive with her, even if the way I have her is not so much of what I want. That's a lie. I love that I have her at all. She can be named as my best friend without anybody hesitating, it true, through and through. Yes, i'd wish to hold her, in a way that is not platonic, but instead romantic. But as long as I have her, no matter what I have her as, its perfect for me.

Yellow became such an important color last night. Now I see it everywhere. It's in papers scattered across my desk, on my shirt, the posters on my wall, the pen in my english teachers shirt, the books, the color paints the dusks and dawns every day.

Sense that flower I don't think i'll ever see Yellow the same way. It's no longer an abstract thing that's around me that I never noticed. Now it's a person itself, it wants attention, it wants me to notice it.

It wants me to notice her.