The flowers I never gave

Sometimes I regret not giving her any of her flowers, or the chance to say her grace but then I remember…

I remember her inability to flower anybody but herself,

the way she lies most of the time to manipulate any and all situations,

I remember she tells more than little white lies, you know? the kind that you remember but, instead she prefers a multitude of lies,

the kind that she can not keep track of and hurts everyone she loves,

I remember she does not know how to apologize without a motive to do so,

and to the dismay of many she will only say sorry for something of a selfish nature,

But I also remember she always packed my favorite snacks when I was young and that made my inner child feel seen. No matter how in a hurry we were she always packed something.

I remember her.

I love her.

So when I think of giving her flowers, that’s who I’m thinking of.

That’s who I miss.

And if I could talk to her I would tell her that I wish she never left because she took away more than just someone who packed me all my favorite snacks.

I say all of this because life was not kind to her but she was to little me, in moments, but it counts.

So I wish I could give her flowers because she didn’t know everything but, she loved me hard and a part of me wishes she could have heard that.

So maybe these are her flowers.