but instead, i was a flower that was carelessly plucked by you because you thought I was fragile and that i was beautiful; soon after, you kept on pulling my petals, asking me with shaking breaths, "do you love me or not?", choking my stems as you clench your fist trying to make me feel your desperation and your painful obsession you always think is love. you thought your preference of me among all the other beautiful flowers is a wonderful gift I should appreciate, but let's be honest here