I don’t know how to wait without withering. My petals close upon themselves in the mere motion of a minute, with touch detained. I abstain from drinking the nectar of hope as the withdrawal symptoms push me down the slope of despair. My shadows dance by the licentious desires of moonlight, craving the searing heat of the summer sun. In feverish disarray of undefined needs, I burn. In your absence, no matter how brief, I age ungracefully and fear your spurn. I am a wildflower that seeks the comfort of the weeds and in doing so I insure I am overlooked and passed upon. I beg you to look underfoot and seek the remnants of the beauty I wish to be.