I’m a flower
Plucked by your hands
Love me or love me not?
I ask, as you tear me apart
And just as petals wilt and fall
Grown fragile from a summer without rain
I wither, needing nothing more than your love;
The sun, to warm me from root to tip
To be nourished, so that I too can grow
Grow to stand tall, thriving with the knowledge
That your heart is mine
Your heart; the soil of which my roots extend
Anchored firmly, I made my home here
But you tore me out like an ugly ****
A pest that was unwelcome
Amongst the beautiful flowers
That were plucked by your hand
An over crowded garden, that had no room for I
The sun never did shine on me
And so I wilt, held down to nothing
My roots still tapped into your heart
Where they will forever stay
While the rest of me was torn up
By your rugged hands; separated
And without a root to keep me grounded
I wither
And as the last petal falls
I whisper
*He loves me not.