Petals.

petals

I pulled petals off of flowers because I wanted to get closer to their scent.

Their beautiful colors formed a pile of rainbows at my feet.

He loves me,

He loves me not.

He loves me,

He loves me not.

We pull apart flowers waiting for the positive outcome not realizing that we’re killing the flower.

It’s uniformity is now destroyed.

It is no longer a beautiful flower.

It is many beautiful pieces that have been pulled apart one by one.

Beautiful, colorful petals sit over top of my shoes.

The green stem looks too green next to my pale hand.

It’s beautiful.

I wonder how much longer it has left.

How much time until it turns an ugly shade of brown

Dry

An ugly shade of death.

That’s what happens when people like you.

People like me.

Take beautiful things like them.

They’re flowers.

No longer growing in a garden; they know that soon they will come to their end.

Petals left in piles behind me,

I never found out if he loved me though.

I guess it was all in vain

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