"what's your story?"
she asks me that afternoon,
as we walk through the local park.
"what do you mean?"
"your story," she repeats. "who you are. where you come from. what you miss."
i shrug
and squint my eyes into the golden sun.
the tinkling sound of swings
dances in the breeze.
"i live with my mom and little sister. dad left when i was seven. haven't heard from him since."
she glances at me
with cloudy eyes.
"i'm sorry."
"don't bother. it hasn't been that bad. except..."
"except?" she questions.
i stand still on the petal-littered pavement
and allow my lips to blossom around the acidic words.
"i didn't get much of a childhood."
YOU ARE READING
supermarket flowers. ☼
Poetry{ in which a boy works in the floral department of a supermarket and falls for a girl who loves flowers } 3/31/17 - #66 in poetry co-author : @little_broken_bird
