Reverberating Lines

Wisteria

A/N: ok so its my first time making a Short Story. So please forgive me for any mistakes i might have made. Its also my first time doing something with flowers so... if your some expert in these decorative plants and see some mistakes please feel free to point them out in the form of constructive criticism. I absolutely love flowers(but they die on my hands so I just like reading about them) and I'd love to do another Poem about them.
[Also the picture is not mine. Its from Demon Slayer]

💐🌸🏵🌹🥀🌺🌻🌼🌷
💐🌸🏵🌹🥀🌺🌻🌼🌷

Isn't it ironic for a girl named Wisteria to see a White Chrysanthemum on her desk?

I need to clarify, I need to be cleared up. Please tell me, Dear flowerfield, is that what you truly want?

To see my shoes with a letter intact on the roof?
To witness a flower falling from its lack of strength to hold on for support?
To see as it withers to nothingness after it lands on the floor?
To have it giving in as it let's death devour it whole?

When will I find a Purple Hyacinth on my bedside?
Did they want ME to present them with the flower of sorrow?
Do they want me to plead for forgiveness because of my existence?
Now the Spring Crocus withers before her very eyes.
Will the Petinent's Rose ever bloom?
Will the gloomy meadow of Foxgloves remain in her heart?

As she was about to set herself free, to make the leep of faith into darkness forever,
A voice stops her from the looming future that will swallowing her whole.

"Let me go" said the flower softly. "Never" replied the Arch.

He quickly got her out of the outer most part of the balcony, as She kicks in an attempt to escape and be free.

But what is even being free? What will there be in the end?
Will she ever truly find happiness?
It what she believed in really true?

She stopped her feral movements as she weakly fell to the ground. The two sit interlaced on the floor.

"Why did you stop me?" The flower asked softly looking up at the tall Arch. "It pains me to see a pretty flower waste herself to the flames of sorrow." Replied the life-saver.

As time passes by, More flowers were given and accepted. Some were unwanted as it caused poison to the heart and soul, while most were taken and accepted with open arms with a heart that is whole.

Expecting the usual White Chrysanthemum sitting wearily on her desk in a plastic pot bought just infront of the school.
She was astonished by a Gladiolus in an expensive looking vase, bidding her strength for the rest of the day. She made her way to the clean desk that was apparently rid of the toxic words and vandalism. She took in the fragrance of the strength-bidding Sword Lily.
For the first time in what seemed like forever, she found peace and strength being offered right in front of her.
There was no demand of the loss of her life, but a blessing of strength to get through the day.

The next day follows, with a
Freesia on her desk, another sweet smile placed on Wisteria's lips. "How thoughtful" she thought as she neared the freshly picked flower to her nose. She wonders why these gorgeous flowers were given to her without context. Not even a small note.

Another morning comes by as she makes her way excitedly to her desk. Now meeting a positive Geranium blessing her with happiness. But again, without context. Nevertheless, she's still very grateful to whoever gives these flowers. As small and fragile as they are, they still manage to set her chin up high and go through the day. Unlike before...

As weeks pass by, an abundance of fragrant flowers pass too.
Yet one day she sees, a Peony on her desk. With a letter laced with ribbon, color identical to the flower's.

"Meet me at the Wisteria tree after the last bell rings." with a signiture similar to an arched walkway on the lower right side of the yellow-ish parchment.

As the last bell rings, The girl named Wisteria made her way to Wisteria tree where she always stayed when she felt gloomy. The tree always made her feel welcomed. As though it was the one speaking to her, as if it was part of her

The silhouette of a young man sitting by the tree holding what seems like a bouque of flowers was seen by the post-suicidal girl.

She neared him as he sat up, eyes locked on eachothers, cheecks burning and sweat dripping. The soft sound of the grass as she stopped and stood infront of the owner of the voice that stopped her from jumping.

It was him. She assumed it was him. And for once, her assumption was correct.
She remembered his name was Trellis. He smiled and handed to her the bouque.

Her eyes grew wide with admiration. A Sparkling glint of happiness replaced the tears and suffering Trellis once saw in her eyes.

He admired her from the very start. He wanted to protect her and support her. But everytime he had the chance to get close, he bailed out and thought of a next time.

That day when he saw her on the roof, broke his fragile heart into pieces. He screamed for her not to do it and Unknown strength pulsed through his veins as he pulled her away from the railings of death.

Now he was here. He's doing what he never thought was possible: Confess. Wisteria smiled up at him. A genuine smile of true happiness and gratitude. One she hasn't done in a long time. She's doing what she never thought she'd do again: Smile.

Here young love blooms under the Wisteria Tree. The Flowers of long-life, love, support and tenderness.

"But that was years ago..." said Wisteria as she braided her daughter's hair. Clematis, a girl of the unripe age of Twelve sat happily listening to the story of how her parent's met under the Wisteria Tree.

Now their love is stronger than any sturdy tree. No Red Rose is comparable to what has blossomed of their love.