A few weeks ago I was given flowers.
Pink, yellow, white and a touch of purple all in a pretty vase.
On my dresser they sat and everyday I saw them.
As time went by they started to turn brown.
They curled in on themselves like a baby in the womb
And soon after that they began to fall,
just like leaves on an October night.
A few of the flowers still remained beautiful,
they still had that sweet smell.
I picked their petals and saved their beauty.
I pressed them in a book to  preserve their looks
These petals sat on my dresser,
day after day.
Their color faded, like an artists painting gone wrong.
what used to be beautiful became nothing more than a mess,
I just wanted to save the beauty.
The beauty of the first kiss, the first love, that first time,
the feeling I wanted to save.
But there have been more kisses, another love, a new path.
And just as the flowers on my dresser died so sudden
my walls fell down, my heart opened up, my path changed.
Just yesterday I was outside with that new love
and I saw a flower growing in between the sidewalk cracks.
Beautiful, new, fighting for a chance.
It was there that I realized; beautiful things are not ours to take.
And if something wants to grow then it will find a way to grow.
All because a few weeks ago I was given flowers.

Take me back to the time
When i was yours
And you were mine

Sunkissed skin and tan lines,
Tussled hair and rose petals,
A love story that's never going to be told.
Shaking fingers sliding over satin
Finding little grasps of hope with
Moon light shining through the window,
A glow so sweet and soft settling into the night.
His bleeding love and her torn soul igniting fire with dry eyes and wet slithers of empty happiness.
These old bones rattle together, an urgent  meeting of compassion too powerful for a boy and a girl combined with love and moonlight.
If only the sun set hadn't come early, and danger didn't sound so **** and the feel of lathering skin wasn't so appealing, two lonely hearts would still be two hearts, and not a mixture of blood and shattered glass.

And suddenly I was able
To put the pieces of our broken love story
Into words

I held them in my hands
So gently, so they would not shatter
And blew them to the sky
Never to return again

No where in the world I'll find
Someone quite like that love of mine
Forever floating in the wind
Our love is gone but will never end

By Chloe Elizabeth