He loved flowers.
He’d spend his long summer days watching them flutter in the breeze, like little butterfly wings. Listening to the humming bees and surrounding himself in their sweet scent.
Vibrant beautiful colors that brightened his world. He would cradle their fragile petals in his hands, stick them in his favorite books, painting his possessions in their fragrance. He’d twist brittle stems into rings and bracelets, wearing those stolen preserved trophies with pride until they too, faded. Leaving nothing but dust he’d release to the winds like a lovers ashes. Unforgotten but released all the same.
(Like the lovers he wished for but could never grasp. The fleeting roses and lilies he never seemed to be enough for, but got over in the end.)
Then he met her.
She was a tall newly sprouted thing, shinning like a miniature sun. Encouraging others to grow, to spread their roots, be their best selves. Everyone thrived under the light of that golden sunflower.
He fell for her too.
(But too hard and fast.)
Again, he wasn’t enough.
(Or was he too much? Did he crowd such delicate flowers? Was that why such a bright and golden one shied from him?)
Still, he loved her anyway. Even if she wasn’t ever going to be his. He admired and aided the ever-growing sunflower, intent on enjoying whatever stolen moments he could get. Offering all of himself.
(Even when the blossoms he adored so much were stuffed down his throat. Soft golden petals sticking to his tongue, choking him.
Tasting like ash and sand when he swallowed. )
And grow his beloved sunflower did. Growing and growing, until she blocked out the real sun, and then he discovered the light he, as a growing being himself, desperately needed, could not come from just one woman, bright as she was.
“It’s fine.” He insisted. Clawing at the thorns she placed under his feet, the biting remarks that hung like guillotines over his head.
(He couldn’t escape then. Trapped in the dark, sunflower roots choking the life out of him, stealing and blocking every inch of life he fought for.
Until the day he decided to cut himself free. He stepped away and fell, and as the darkness swallowed him did he realise he cut out everything he needed to live.)
He’d loved flowers.
But the flowers had never loved him.