Antipathy And The Antithesis

If they were plants,she’d have a garden.In all different colors and smell or lack thereof.The full blooms,the buds of promise and potentials,even the weeds.All beautiful and flawed in their own ways.They move with the wind with different intentions,grow and bloom for different reasons.Love.Lust.Adventure.Game of hide and seek.The thrill of the chase.The constant search for hands to nurture them and maybe for some,just the chance to color her world.And many a lovelorn heart would want to lay in there and lavish its vegetation.Not that she doesn’t appreciate them.She does,at times,for whatever its worth.They add details to her story and palliate the boredom of her field.But they only remind her of the one she want and can’t have.The unassuming lily in the water.Right in the middle of it.The one she can’t reach.The one she can only watch from a distance.In silence.While the others dance for her attention and frustrate her.