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Flower
"My flower"
That's what he called me.
Delicate and beautiful,
Like a flower.
But if I am his flower
Can't he see
That like a flower
I am wilting.
I am not being taken care of.
And no one pays much attention to me.
Not until I am not the same as I once was.
No longer pretty,
No longer do I stand tall.
Not until I have lost all my color.
If I am his flower,
Can't he water and nourish me?
Or will I get thrown away?
Just like all tired flowers do.
His flower.
Copyright ©
Courtney DiPersia
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