If only I could see the beauty he sees in me. Feel the softness of my skin, gaze into my shiny eyes. Caress my hair.
All I see is suffering and decay. I don’t feel alive anymore. I want to feel like I used to do. I had started to bloom but the flower is already closing up, withering away.
Soon I will be blown away by the wind, like a leaf too afraid of the tree. I will swirl and float, fly high and tumble down, slowly, until I dry up in the sun and turn into dust.
The earth laughs in flowers
Ralph Waldo Emerson