Dandelion

"When it's over, move on. Don't water a dead flower."

I, who was naive, was splendored by your essence;

It wasn't long ago until you gave me reason,

A reason to mend my feet with cloth from trampling 

on your wicked thorns.

I, who was oblivious let you lead me into your garden,

a garden of peace, a garden of hope, in which

I fell in love with your ever-so captivating

roots and kissed the seed in which I hoped 

you loved me too.

Unaware of your scorns, your minuscule demons,

I planted my seeds into the fertility of your garden

in hopes that I would be more than just beautiful to 

the ethereality of your divine kind. 

You told me I was more than beautiful, much pure like a rose,

and every night I prayed for our stems to intertwine and

sprout into this magical tree of vehemence;

This garden of peace and hope in which I believed you fancied me,

was nothing more than just your bitter existence

 treading on my roots, leaving me with the perception that I am nothing 

more than just a dandelion.

Author's Note

What is your view on flowers?

Reviews

[Samuel Dave]

Nice poem, I enjoy the feminine perspective of a break up, much more comforting than I feared.