The girl said to improve,
a girl with a perfect smile
has always expected better, after all,
she’s still my favorite drug.
Up and under the garden gate
there is no outward love
she’s always inward and guarded.
The Queen still giving commands
on the edge of this hour
waiting to read something
she’d actually like.
I may not have the words anymore,
that focused light,
perhaps extinguished and gone.
Who knows, I could start anew
ripping a flower from the ground
I pull the petals and count
she loves me! Who am I kidding,
she’s never really loved.
I pull again, she loves me not,
and that sounds more like it,
I smile and pick again,
she loves me! Words she refuses to use.
A handful of petals this time,
she cannot love.
The flower now sits exposed
anemic with no more color.
I toss the stem on the ground
she asked what the flower said,
and with no real answer
I go back to the field
and pick again.

For My Uptopiangirl. Love you.