Once again,
love blooms as a flower,
A tulip standing quietly in sight.
Beautiful in its presence,
Yet dangerous in its flaw.
For even beauty can poison,
And I have felt it before.
So I remain where I am,
Watching,
but never reaching.
Even in a field of flowers,
I will not hold another,
Until the one meant for me
Is placed in my hands.
Two flowers I picked up,
Two flowers I poured my love into.
I left them for a moment,
But both were taken by someone else.
One was a cactus,
Close enough, and it would hurt.
One was a rose,
Beautiful, yet painful to hold.
Both were taken
By people I once trusted.
One by a close friend,
The other by my own blood.
I can only hope
They don’t wither away
That they’re given
The care I once tried to give.
In the end, they led me back,
Back into my home
A place where I shut my doors,
And keep the world outside.
Yet through my window,
I see a tulip bloom.
Quiet. Distant. Untouched.
But I’m afraid to pick it,
Afraid to pick any flower at all.
So I stay behind the glass alone, just watching from afar.