Insignificant

Was I so insignificant that it did not matter whether I bloomed or not? Was I so meaningless that it did not matter that I withered away? Was my soul not as precious as yours that it did not require tending to? When your desires grew so desperate that your morality wavered, my petals began to fall. Each one crashing to the ground taking a part of my spirit with it, leaving me a little more crumpled and a little more broken, trying to bloom but not having the strength to do so. Trying to give you the air to breathe because I did not want you to wither and fall. I hoped, with the good that was in me, that you would see me too. But you didn’t. With your final betrayal you punctured a hole right through my core and I was left crushed, wilted, with no hope of ever blooming again.