My Buttercup

A poem written after a very intense break-up.

I saw a flower in the field.
I picked it just for you.
I held it in my hand,
And to your heart I flew.

A flower pick'd dies slowly,
This I already knew.
And such was our love,
As my heart would be torn in two.

This 'Buttercup', I treasured-
One day picked in vain.
Our distance increased in measure.
I'll never see you again.

She held me and she hurt me,
As I knew She'd always do.
I must be planted like a tree,
Holding on as strong winds blew.

Something has beset me,
Anxiety runs wild.
I hear the knocking threatening;
My life will end 'ere while.

And just as it always would,
The flower lost its bloom.
I lost myself in your eyes and smile.
Then, my dear, I lost you.