the wind didn’t blow the same,
the trees wouldn’t sway during fall
and the longer the day
the more i’d wait in
until it was dark enough for me to
come out and bloom for you,
in the essence of moonlight.

at least i used to bloom,

for you, i mean.

although every gray shade and
every rough water drop told me
not to,
i bloomed for you.

but you never nourished me,
you left me out to die once the
sun came back up and let the city’s
busy feet trample my bright and vivid
colors.

i must admit, my colors came from you,
but now i’ve planted my roots somewhere else.

where wind gracefully caresses with kindness,
somewhere the trees dance to the beat of the rain
and where the longer the day
the more time i have to bloom.

even while in the dark, i’m seen now,
for my colors. that’s all i ever really wanted.

from you, i mean.

-melancholicreator