I guess that’s just how it goes
A seed was planted,
But it’s up to us to make sure it grows
Busy bodies can not water the earth
And God was busy with other loves
Our roots never grew and somehow it hurts
But I move on when push comes to shove
It’s easy for me to blossom, to spring buds of red
But you were too far away for me to plant roses in your head
Stretched out arms and hungry heart, leaves watered with tears
Salty conversations and ignorance plead
For a botanist with a pair of shears
Cut my buds (I cry) and dry them upside down
Preserve my petals though they’re shriveled and a little brown
Dissipated perfume, withered head and crumpled leaves,
But I’m still dangling in your memories