A letter to my love.

Dear Love,

It is ok that you picked her over me. Who wouldn’t pick a rose over a wildflower?

A rose is beautiful. Poets, philosopher and lovers are hooked over its magnificence. Even gods stare at it. The scent is celebrated and the color is worshiped.

But darling despite the beauty, you crush the rose when you pluck it. A rose hurts you with her thorns. Rose is vulnerable. Rose is dependent. Rose craves attention. Rose craves love. It is withered by storms and the wind carries it away unlike the ungroomed wildflower.

The messy wildflower stands still. Patient, strong and unwithered .It blossoms, spreads and grows without any attention. No man can crush it, and it will hurt no man. A wildflower is undemanding, independent and unbothered.

But I get it you picked her over me. Who wouldn’t pick a rose over a wildflower?

Yours,

Wildflower.