I wonder if you think of me
as often as i think of you.
Not all happy thoughts might I add.
Mostly the bad memories that I stored away
and couldn’t see at the time
because love finds pleasure in digging out your eyes
and letting them bleed.
So that your blinded by the color of love.
A shade of red so deep you never saw it coming.
Don’t blame yourself my dear.
You know you were blind.
You can’t blame a blind person
for not knowing the difference between
rusty red roses and dead dandelions
that never had their wishes granted.
Seeds of distrust floating away in the wind
To plant more beautiful lion weeds
to eat up all the baby rosebuds
that would never see the light of day.
Devoured by the sharp teeth and raspy tongue
of the lioness of dandelions.
Not so dandy now.
I wonder if you regret me
as often as I regret you.