Pieces of Me

     Everyday she takes a short visit to the greenhouse. Her own plants at home are dead. Every single one she has ever received in her life is dead. She thought that she knew how to care for them, she had too much pride in herself to looks for others' guidance. She over watered, and sometimes they just dehydrated. She left them sitting on her windowsill for the sunlight. Maybe she should have left them outside where they belonged to catch that natural rain.
     She gently touched a petal on a moons-flower. It was so beautiful. Of course its appearance drew her attention, much unlike the Bearded Iris. She's a woman of beauty herself. There are rare occasions that she turn heads walking the streets. Otherwise she always thinks that the men are just too shy to come talk to her or acknowledge her.
   
     He doesn't speak to her anymore. He doesn't even notice her presence, or he purposely ignores her. Just like she does to him every once in a while. She did that to quite a few of him with no explanation. She thought that she knew how to treat him. Be herself. The dos and the don'ts. She never looked for advice. Her friend's tried to help her, but they only seemed to be insulting her capabilities. Their opinions only went through one ear out the other. She'd love with her whole heart at the start and slowly begin to forget to appreciate. She'd figure that since she was being herself that their relationship would die, he would love another. Maybe it wasn't meant to be, she should set him free. There is someone out there for she. It's just not he.