A weed is difficult to pull out of the ground

You almost always mistakenly abandoned its roots in the dirt

Only ever twisting out the part above the surface

Leaving the roots to fester in the earth

Perhaps that’s why your stems still seem to swell from my veins

Your roots intertwined with every one of my bones, every limb, every cell

Until I was nothing but a pool of weeds

And how was I to recognize you as a weed

When all you let me discover were the flowers that covered your thorns

All I smelled was flowers

Now all I smell is the blood your thorns cut from my raging heart

In the field of thousands of wild flowers I find you. And you are the wildest; you are the most beautiful. I walked by your side until our steps became in sync. I learned everything about you until our minds were practically one. I wanted to study every one of your petals until I could no longer want to know about anything else. I could become consumed by the way you sway in the wind, the way your stem reaches for the sun like a toddler reaches for a toy. But although I never wanted your voice to leave my ear, I never wanted to speak to you. Speaking to you was too hard, too painful. Every "I love you" I spoke was laced with nothing but pain. It is not because I don’t love you, but because you will never be able to give me the same kind of love in return.