They come like wild flowers. I got used to solitude, I got used to my own skin.
Then you came out of nowhere, and you caressed me. Your hands touching my skin, this time. But you lied to my heart. With the soft strokes of your finger tips, you made me feel that I mattered, that I was enough. But you didn’t really want me. You just wanted to make me feel like you did, so you could feel good about yourself.
All of the wildflowers, are taking their toll on me. Instead of already feeling whole in my own solitude, I have come to yearn for that certain sweetness that you can’t have on your own.