the thing about fake flowers is that…
they have this make-up that’s time-proof.
they never stop smiling at you, make you think you’re the best person even when you’re at the best chance of becoming the smelliest douche bag.
you think what they give you is what poems call the unconditional love. whatever you do pleases them.
they don’t raise their voices, they don’t complain. they seem to be perfect.
i raise my voice, sometimes
i disagree and make sure you know
sometimes you piss me off, at times i push you away
you think to love me is impossible.
it was a wrong thing to choose me to be your flower.
i don’t stop at decorating your front porch. i stir your heart up, making you uncomfortable.
i become another pain in your life, because i make you think about me day and night.
i invade your life. trespassing your fence.
i make you feel, and you fight it.
perhaps… it’s because i am a real flower.
i need the sun and the rain and even the wind to take me to dance.
i need you to love me and you need me because i vibrate and give you that strange breeze into the pores…
of your shivering skin.
i am not one of those fake flowers that have no heartbeat.
and they do not love.
are you one of those people who say to themselves,
i deserve something fake, because i am not strong enough for the real?