I'm sorry I let go of your hand.
I'm sorry you saw me cry.
I'm bitter because you keep me warm without any fire
and because I'm still as clueless as ever.
I'm sorry I am a plant that sprouted in your heart and I'm sorry that I wilt when you forget to water me.
I'm as abandoned as a building or an old playground in a town full of adults and the rain doesn't calm me down anymore.
I guess I just needed you to know that because I'm pulling my petals off one by one.
I love me not. I love me not.
I'm wilting again and you're a drought who can describe the water.