Hoping it'd blossom some day,
provided it got the tender love and care it was used to.
At least until you 'bought' it for me.
You don't matter that much any more.
But I DO love the flower.
It reminds me of myself in weird ways-
It's not a gift from you any more.
I've formed a bond with it.
We've a story of our own now.
And you feature nowhere in it.
She's my Miranda.
I'm her Lizzy.
I keep talking,
she listens to me with all the patience in the world.
We go window shopping together.
Though I'm yet to know what she admires over there.
We spend hours in the Crossword,
going through the books she and I both get lost in.
She,because they're too vast for her fragile self.
I,because I've always felt safe hiding behind words.
I gulp down phuchkas,
she laughs at me.
I cry my lungs out,
she never wipes my tears.
She still is my best friend.
At times,I wish I could give her something other than my age-old diary and my yellowed words.
You know,she deserves much,much more.
At least a shelter,food,clothes.
The basic necessities a human being is entitled to.
You know,just because she doesn't have two legs,two hands and a genital organ,
it doesn't mean she doesn't have a soul.
And I'd have a soul over stray limbs any day,for reasons so obvious to you.
P.S.This is part of Fantabulous February-day twenty six by Kanika on her blog Sensitive Chaos. If my attempt felt incomplete somehow,it struck the right chords. That was EXACTLY how you were supposed to feel. I can't believe Fantabulous February is coming to an end though! I LOVED it to death!