Every time I say I’ll stop, I always feel there’s that slight chance.
A rare one.
One where I will get the petal which will tell me she loves me.
I guess you could say I’m delusional.
That it will never happen.
That I should keep on dreaming if I want to stay in this single life.
Just waiting for my savior to whisk me away.
Like that would be possible.
Just with the flowers to keep me company.
Me and the flowers.