White Oleander

12:34am, 1234, the releasing of emotional baggage. Looking up into the night sky, the stars seemed to be shining brighter than usual. I believe that each star tells a story and holds some kind of fate when they align. Kinda like when I met you.

12:34am was no coincidence, the universe is urging me to tell my story, and no one can tell it better than a marigold flower.

Lets begin...

With closed eyes I whispered ‘He loves me’ while picking one petal off the flower and letting the gentle breeze whisk the broken and lonesome petal away into the night air.

I was under the great impression that I made you happy, which in turn made me happy. A beautiful poet once said, ‘when their happiness is your happiness, that is love’

With my eyes remaining closed I proceeded to pick off the next petal and whisper ‘He loves me not’.

In that wasted time of knowing you, you don’t know half of the shit that you put me through.

-Another gentle breeze carrying the next broken petal up and away to an unknown land.

Why am I using a marigold rather than a daisy? Well not all flowers have happy meanings, like me, looks can be very deceiving. While Marigolds can mean happiness and warmth, they also have darker meanings attached to them; Jealousy. Grief. Despair. Death.

For someone as arrogant and tainted as you, you sure had one weakness. That was until you said you wanted a real girl and that I was just a cartoon made for fantasies, the oleander that you forced down my throat still suffocates me to the point where I now feel dead inside.

Out of all the flowers in my garden, I relate to oleander the most.

Why?

-It’s charming yet deadly.

You’re an invested playa and a crazy liar! You told me you were raised to never hit a woman, no; you just do emotionally, your hands around my neck as you painted me blue.

But honey I’m a gangsta too and it takes two to tango. You don’t wanna dance with me.

And to think I actually believed that the stars aligned for me and meeting you was of great design. What a joke that was. Like you.

I feel like spitting at the stars, I feel so betrayed. Love humiliated me, and yet hatred cradled me. It always has.

At this point in time I don't know how many more petals the marigold has left before it met its end. Like you.

The love me and love me nots are becoming blurred. Like I said, hatred will always cradle me. With closed eyes I have been breaking off tiny pieces of the flower, mutilating it slowly for my own piece of mind. To tell my story.

With each petal being broken off, felt as though I was tearing at the seams of something I didn’t want to fucking know. Like you.

-So much for being “serious” about me.

I abruptly opened my eyes, not because I wanted to, but because a higher power told me to. I am met with a golden sun beginning to rise; the morning sky was on fire. New beginnings are on the horizon.

I rather not know what was left of the marigold.

-One gun on the table, your name is on the headshot. Send my best regards to hell, mon amour.

Rather than knowing if you loved me or not I set the marigold flower on fire. Like you, the ashes are buried in the earth where they will remain forever.

Out of all the flowers in my garden, I relate to oleander the most

Why?

Because it can kill you.

I told you tiger, you don’t wanna dance with me.