// buried roots //
// buried roots // poem of the day stories
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weeklybrent
weeklybrent// you should be loving someone //
Autoplay OFF  •  4 months ago
// i love in bits and pieces, rather than in whole //

// buried roots //

once,

my best friend told me,

that a boy had fallen in love with me

and was disappointed

that i didn’t love him back,

heartbroken,

that he couldn’t be home to my heart.

i never understood

the idea of falling in love with someone,

because i have never loved someone in whole.

i love in bits and pieces.

parts of various people i’ve met

throughout my life,

filter into one.

like a butterfly,

i flutter from flower to flower,

collecting nothing more

than a dried leaf here,

a light petal there,

and sometimes,

even some nectar.

but i’ve never stayed too long at a flower,

always flew away

before i found a home

in its petals,

before i found warmth

in its leaves,

before i dug myself

too far into its roots,

and found what’s hidden underground.

i take these bits and pieces,

and create a beautiful mosaic

that is you.

you are the embodiment

of who and what i love,

and you are absolutely perfect.

i could never ask anything

more of you,

because you are everything

i’d ever want out of love,

everything i’ve ever dreamt of.

you are the epitome of perfection,

beauty at its finest,

you,

you are everything i’ve wanted out of life,

you are who i’ve spent entire nights

writing into existence,

you are the reason i’m restless

and tired

and giddy

and so desperately in love.

but you don’t exist.

and you never will,

and it’s hard for me

to accept that.

it’s honestly quite selfish, as well,

but i guess that’s the piece of me,

that you’d never pick if you flew by.

because what i realized that day,

when i found out that a boy

had fallen in love with me,

was that he didn’t truly know me,

he just loved the pieces he saw,

the ones above ground,

that caught his eye,

the ones he picked.

so i guess

that we’re not all that different.

we all have souvenirs

from lovers we never had,

and, if ever put together,

would make a beautiful flower,

but a flower is nothing

without its roots,

so our pieces tend to dry up

and wilt.

but, every now and then,

our complicated roots

reach out,

not only to satisfy our thirst for life,

and also for love,

and, every now and then,

our roots intertwine with another’s,

and we finally learn

why we’ve never truly loved before.

we realize that the reason

we buried ourselves underground

for all this time,

was in an attempt to not be picked,

in attempt to not wilt,

in attempt to thrive,

not alone,

but rather together,

until the end of time.

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