Creative Writing

Fresh flowers in a vase,

Cut, de-thorned and groomed to perfection.

A fleeting perfection,

Like an unrequited love.

It starts as a yearning beauty, 

A crush ready to blossom into love.

A need to be close to,

To talk to,

To hold,

To love,

The object of your affection.

You show yourself in full bloom,

With all of your colors on display,

Vibrant reds mixing with pale pinks and innocent white,

All clashing against lively green stems. 

Bright, beautiful, and alive,

Until the realization hits.

Except it doesn’t hit,

It just slowly dawns.

Petal by petal.

The stems droop under the realization.

Until all that remains are shriveled stems;

Onlookers who hope for happiness that others could never provide 

Some days are good days.

Those days are few and far between,

And I wish I could remember those feelings.

I wish I could remember those feelings,

As I lay curled in my bed crying,

As I stare at my laptop screen numbly,

As I try to force myself to work;

Because sometimes it seems I’ll never feel them again. 

Through the heart pounding anxiety attacks,

Through the nagging words of nonexistent people,

Through the fear of just leaving my bedroom for the day.

Today is one of those days. 

No. not a bad day,

For once it’s a good day.

It didn’t start that way,

But at four in the morning,

It seems to have ended that way;

Or,

Has it just begun?