sand in between my toes and the flowers forgotten

These flowers should be in a vase on someone's desk with a note or drawing of some sort showing some kind of endearment from someone they love.

Why are they left forgotten on this desk, above the compost trash where they seem to be meant for...?
*
*
*
The foundation of my found happiness is rapidly crumbling and has started to become sharp gravel under my bare feet. The gravel gashes into my flesh, sure to leave scars once again.

The gravel eventually begins to loose its rough harshness and turns into sand

Each time this happens, the ability to feel sand between my toes dims. Each time it takes a more determined tickle to reach past the scar tissue.


Maybe eventually I will find someone as determined and devoted as me.

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

*

It felt good to write. Writing always helps.
^_^

( 3626V) ~> (3640V)