flowers are for pansies By Piper Mullaney
-Looking Forward to Spring By: Maura Weir Crumpton
she holds a lone, pink peony i picked for her in her tender hands. with delicacy, she pulls petals off one by one. she’s playing she loves me, she loves me not. with each petal that floats to the floor, i plea please love me please love me she twirls the petals between her nimble fingers. she feels their softness and compares them to the softness of her hands. i imagine she’s thinking how pure
how delicate
the gentleness in her hands vanishes, replaced with a rough touch as she squeezes the not-yet-picked petals between her fingers, smudging them, stripping them of their purity and throwing them to my feet. her fingers now stained a faint pink, her hand with a lingering sweet scent reminders of the innocence she stripped away and a love she destroyed. i think about how beautiful this lone flower was how beautiful it had looked in her hands a beauty that lays limp at my feet. she loves me not
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