I recall the day I picked you in that meadow full of weeds.
The sun was high, the air cool and crisp, I think I felt a breeze.
Now i'm alone but I'm
breathing again,
living again.
You dried my heart like a bouquet of flowers;
just hung them out to die.

With each denial you uttered,
you cliped another feather from my dreams.
I no longer fly with you.
I soar alone.

Author Note: Do you think I should continue with this and maybe make it into a song? Feed back and reviews please.