The deepest cut
is the first
then the one that follows
I find that I am tired
as my essence puddles out
crimson tears form in the well
and become a weeping waterfall
of wasted life and battered choices
I want to take it back---
but the redness of me,
breaks free
seeking to be exposed to the outside
and remain uncaged from weakness.

I don't  want to be used
I want to be loved
I don't want to be your moon
When the Sun is not around!

Have you ever stumbled upon a flower,
       next to her, you were seated;
       a gaze you never gave,
       and time passed by just like that.
She didn't bloom as you expected her to be,
       shining under the sun's rays,
       a bud that didn't open -- yet
       existing yet not appealing -- she was just about to bloom.
Have you ever stumbled upon a flower,
       as the sun was setting, you stood up;
       "please wait," she was begging
       yet you never loved her so you left.
The shy flower, yes it's tiny
       no one would pick her, no one was there;
       twenty feet, her perfume travelled;
       it was her time to flourish at night.
You never loved that flower,
       neither picked her petals nor sniffed its scent;
       she ended up saying "I love you,"
       with lost worth, is she the unlucky one?

She was a tender perennial, you unlucky one.

Must be nice

to pick and choose
when Im worthy enough

to be a part of your life


Too bad
Im not an option