I love the flowers you grow, even though the bunch always dies
Because the only thing you watered, were the streams in my eyes
I loved the words you uttered, and the songs you muttered but all I got were lies
I knew I should have left right then but your arms were my home and your eyes were my blue skies
I tried to make you love me, dressed up, sang, painted, but all I got in return were failed tries
You were my prize
I loved eventhough everyone else told me it was unwise
I knew in the end you were going to be my definite demise.
I’ve decided that every Wednesday is gonna be Poetry Penesday (since my great, creative mind couldn’t think of anything better).
This is the first Wednesday to many more..