Back and forth, back and forth
Until the petals are gone
"He loves me, he loves me not"
Or maybe he refuses to choose
So I keep plucking petals
Then leaves
Then bits of stem
Until he asks of me,
"Give me your flower, then I'll love you."
So I scrape and gather everything discarded
In trembling hands, held out
He says,
"This isn't a flower,"
Then takes it anyway
Leaving me not even a seed.
YOU ARE READING
The Poetry Collection [Editing]
PoetryA soulful recollection and philosophies on life from a young, femme, punk poet. Poems ranging from when I was still in school, moving out, exploring the world for the first time, moving through the years, until now, being an independent artist and b...
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