I’m starting to think you don’t love me.

At least not in the way that she does. 

I was excited for us to be a family,

For us to grow together,

To become something beautiful.

And when you put me outside you said it was so I could feel the sunlight,

So I knew you cared,

Even though it was always cloudy.

And when you began to water me less I knew you didn’t want me to drown. 

But my withering leaves aren’t your concern anymore. 

And I can’t ask you for help. 

My knotted roots are anchored deep. 

They keep me here

though pieces of me fade away,

Fall and die. 

They surround me and I can see what you took. 

Will I ever be who I am supposed to be now?

Do you even know my name?

You say I’m important to you.

But not in the way you promised. 

You celebrate my weakness. 

Collecting my tattered leaves and 

Setting them ablaze. 

And I was happy to keep you warm. 

But as you basked in the heat of my misery she came to me. 

And she gave me water. 

I had forgotten the taste. 

My hardened edges smoothed. 

I stood taller. 

You noticed. 

Remembering again the flower you planted months ago. 

An Iris.

You see why she tended to me now. 

You want me back after seeing my worth. 

Do you care again?

Will you love me when I’m pretty?

But how long until your interest in me fades?

How long will it be until the maintenance of keeping me is not worth what I can offer you?

Why do I waste time asking questions I know the answer to.

In your eyes I’m just beautiful kindling.

  • Ellie Pellecchia