Love is like a flower
We pick the most exquisite ones
The ones that look most delicate,
And blow the lightest in the wind.
Once picked,
we take care of it
We feed it
and place it in light
Trying our best to make it last.
Until the pedals start to fall
We try reattaching them,
Shaking the flower
More fell off
And we are left
With nothing but roots