I'm a wildflower; the rarest one among pretty, perfect ones. I spend years in this field, watching as others are picked, and I remain rooted here. I want to cry out, "Pick me! Don't you see me here?" but then I remember what I've seen. I don't want to be torn apart for another who … Continue reading Love Me, Love Me Not
I just want long summer nights laying on a blanket in a flower field, with my head on the chest of a man who adores me, while we gaze up at the stars we're made of. I just want warm, sunny days racing down the sandy beach to the ocean with him chasing behind and … Continue reading “What Are You Looking For?”
You have no business playing in a field of flowers when your intention is not to be gentle, but instead rip the petals off fragile florets and leave the remaining flowers to die.