The story of my life

Dandelions were never my favorite Valentine's gift

I remember peeking through the weeping glass

On that cold night

Footsteps fading into the distance like the

Sound of a warrior holding a blade by

His soft belly.

Dandelions slept on the floor like homeless kids,

The thorns on the roses had tangled perfectly

With the inside of my arm and,

The roses began developing wrinkles

Like a face stripped bare off its

Make up.

Calling your momma was an easy decision

But as they say, 'success don't come easily',

She hung up on me

I remember being a witness to a phone

Flying without wings, and as it landed harshly

On the ground, I realized that I had

Overly reacted to the scenario...

The pieces are still litter we sweep

Daily, together with the pieces of my heart

Which needs a better temple than mine.

That red box you brought resting in the arms

Of a red cloth, is another thorn in the arm.

The chocolates don't taste the same no more

And if I could return them to the shop,

I'd let them know the sentimental pain

All the nights I consumed them like medicine

The times I used them as paint,

And painted your face on the mirror

Before I used the mirror as a dartboard

The mirror broke and my reflection is

Now split into pieces...

I tried to glue them together but,

Blood dripped on the surface like honey_

Thirsty flies buzzed around my hands

And I loved the feeling of being attractive

For once!

I deleted all my phone numbers right before

I restored them...

Booty calls are entirely making my voice hoarse

But, you can't get better, when you already

Have the best...

Pigeons fly over the bed

Carrying dandelions...is that prophetic?

Or it's just a nightmare waiting for your

Fingers to pinch me on my thigh

So that I can wake up and call out

Your name

It's valentine's day and please,

Don't bring dandelions, for, they were

Never my favorite...

Please give me a call!

@Da_Scripta