I watched you yesterday with her. You were sitting at the cafe near the sea, where they light up candles at night. You were kissing her cheek and she was blushing. It made me smile, even though I should hate her. But then I know she’s the one for you. She’s the orchid. And I just a wild flower — you know the dirty red one you pluck and then just stick behind your your ear. The one that makes you feel like a free soul, a hippy who doesn’t have a care. I can’t compare. I don’t want to. Because wild flowers don’t care do they? But I cared about you. I did. I loved you. It was a completely mad kind of love. Hope you felt that? I know you did, every time I kissed you. I always wore my heart on my sleeve. For you. But this is what they mean by ‘somethings are meant to be’. We weren’t.
But who will tell that to the wild flower, they never listen, do they? Oh my heart sucks. You make me cuckoo.
Oh won’t someone else pluck me?