I am your flower bed.
Your fingers fertilize
the forget-me-knots
that your lips planted into my skin,
you watch me grow,
becoming more beautiful
with each passing day.
You don't dare pluck me
from my roots
because they are my past
and they keep me grounded
so you admire me.
If my flowers begin to wilt,
you'll plant more
watching me grow over
and over again.
YOU ARE READING
Bits and Pieces.
PoetryDear reader, this won't necessarily be a story, rather my poems and thoughts. If you are brave enough to venture into my mind and my work, I will welcome you with open arms. Thank you. Sincerely, a.f.
