plucking petals from the center of a daisy.
the satiny texture of life.
breathing in flowery delight.
twisting the pure ivory teardrops between my fingers.
crushing, grinding and squishing it into a paste.
the stunning flicks of winsome memories,
turned to shredded affection
and self-loathing.
the bitter toxins
still, sting wounds of battle,
however, the knowledge of that daisy's deadly sickness
will continue this painful war.
it hurts so bad,
plucking out the petals that lay around my heart,
to remove my feelings for you.
plucking
plucking
plucking
petals
