I could write about a daisy and make you cry

June 8, 2008
Petals shed,
Fall. Shrivel. Crumple. Hope for the best on the way down.

The breeze caresses my cheek,
In a way that no one has ever done.

Alone I am stronger, but that’s a lie,
Life is boring on my own.

I will never look at a rope again
And be able to choke back the thought of you.

My phone was left glowing with life last night
Sleep would only deprive me of his voice if he called

The rest of the world dies with the daisy,
Living in the past is impossible but they forgot to let it matter

Whenever the word ‘goodbye’ is uttered to me
I respond with a ‘see you’ …I don’t really want to mean goodbye.

The phone never vibrated that night.
But in hopes that it would I lied awake and tired.

Compared to a rose, the daisy’s beauty is less
And the rain is needed to make the sun shine.

Upon speaking to myself in the mirror
I got lost in the reflection of his eyes.

Daisies beg to be remembered, by being more numerous in the spring.
Roses prick them with thorns, never realizing their significance.
If I don’t break my promise to you, the world as I know it will end.
But if I do, promises as I know them will end, and begin to mean nothing.

The daisy is not reluctant, it is naïve.
And still unnoticed by the rose, the rose is indifferent.

She’s here for you, at least for now,
And even if she leaves soon, I’m here forever.

The daisy is used to living in the rose’s shadow
The rose is used to being first to the sun.

That’s when…

The phone rings
The rope breaks
The daisy dies
My voice shakes
You will live
The rose will die
All that’s left
Is you and I.

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