A withering flower, wrinkled past the prime of beauty
Petals sagged in sadness
He loves me, he loves me not
Thirsting for a drop of love to revive a blooming smile
Awake but lifeless, a curving stem of denial
Perfumed skin weakens daily
The nutrients of your soil are few
He loves me not, he loves me
The kiss of your rain washes the dew of tears
And is all this flower needs from the world to live
By Kiri Gray ©
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