Emotions run dry.
The water runs dry.
And I am no longer the perfect flower you wanted on that Christmas night.
My petals are torn and wilted. The color faded.
I’m afraid I can’t stay longer for where I’m headed.
So throw me, toss me in the pile of compost.
And just maybe I’ll be the flower of your dreams once again.
May 17, 2025
May 17, 2025 at 12:35 PM UTC
Emotions run dry.
The water runs dry.
And I am no longer the perfect flower you wanted on that Christmas night.
My petals are torn and wilted. The color faded.
I’m afraid I can’t stay longer for where I’m headed.
So throw me, toss me in the pile of compost.
And just maybe I’ll be the flower of your dreams once again.
