Where the Flowers Bloom Unwatered

First heartbreak.

I remember my first heartbreak

as if it were yesterday

though in reality,

it's been over a decade.

At five years old, the idea of loving

seemed such an easy concept to grasp

and that young, it's hard to imagine that,

that same love, possibly wouldn't last.

The thought of losing something you loved

seemed unreal, unbelievable, absurd

'cause all you had to do was cry and scream and shout

and what you wanted would be returned.

Still no one prepared me for that day;

the day I had my heart broken.

No one had prepared me for that day.

The day that Death had stolen

the one person that I dared love more

than any toy I had in my possession.

All I wanted was my love to be given back to me

to hell with all the Barbie Dolls I was obsessed with.

If only I'd been given a warning 'cause

for the first time, I cried, screamed,

damn sure shouted, but nothing happened.

My tears hadn't changed that scene.

The church, the open casket, the choir, the preacher

They still remained, and she was still the same:

still, stiff, lifeless.

Nothing had changed,

but me.