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metaphor
March 1, 2016
eventually, it’s not the hurt that matters.
once a flower has withered and died, the one responsible only thinks about how they forgot to water it for a moment in time. they never let it cross their mind that they deprived the flower of sunlight. all they think about is how pretty the flower used to look sitting on their desk, how the colours in the petals complemented their curtains perfectly. after a few days they buy a new flower. after a week memories of the old have become transparent, completely fading away.
i was your flower.
© Andromeda M., Milford, CT
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for me, this is written about many people, not just someone in particular. to state the typical, yes, it is in some form about a past lover. it is also written to my mother, to other family members, and to past friends. many people experience loss in relationships, where they feel like they have been disregaurded and forgotten. that's what this poem means to me.