I’ve never found my self much of a party goer She echoes compliments in my name despite the fact I hardly know Her core the colour yellow, weather sunshine or stain who cares, her petals shape a leo's mane or gust of cluttered leaves and such Stuttered speech and awkward stares. She claims here feet are planted but her roots seem to be hardly here. We long to find our selves. Alone to delve deeper into common grounds. Two perfect strangers, the musics loud i watch her mouth. Her speech is wayward. Body language tells a perfect talent of two playful simbas I search for symbols of attraction or a means of lust. I crack a joke, she cracks a smile and claims I play too much. Laughs again pats my arm and transitions to a lingered touch I attempt to wow her with amateur philosophy speak in riddles as if i care about the state of Syria's democracy. The news is fickle.   People change. Life is strange that way. We ghost our selves, mourning as we lay awake. I think too far ahead, my mind has wondered. To this second chance at a first impression I read expressions like a mirror. Her voice is new, but her face familiar It must be twitter. Distance between us now mirrors the size of the earth we stand on. Minutes stand still, Still we do not question where the times gone. She said do you believe in love? I said does a requiem dream? We crave for the chance to trance in love like hits of opium. see, It'a so addictive. I saw her heart drop too her stomach as she described her love for the wind…. The wind would lay with me, shoot the most gentle breeze through my petals. Pull my interest from the roots and never question where I stem from. Mutually sharing love, as he would share me and my interests simultaneously. Through my veins he would pump an ecstasy I would fiend after every hit. Bruising, I would excuse and still fiend after every hit. Losing. Feeling till the rush of pain felt more a numbing bliss. My memory is not what it used to be…. Empathy. I stare at her with perfect empathy I notice every imperfection, questioning how can someone so perfect be can so flawed she was the the unforeseen picture of a princess after the happily ever after. the remnants of Rembrandt’s pallet the Daisy who envied the thorns of a rose a bouquet of statements like “the world just doesn’t understand me” I told her understanding is half the battle what ever that means… it sounded nice or “Burdens are for shoulders strong enough to carry them.” consider that, I wanted nothing more than to place the weight her world on my back at las’ we stand fractions away from an action we’ve anticipated whole heartedly from hello; I notice her every detail the goose bumps on her skin I proceed with a hug simply to shelter from the wind I feel her blood pumping through her flesh and envy it’s presence lean in for kiss a picturesque moment in frame heart pumping harmonious fear with every second she stopped me.. and said I didn’t catch you name. I said The Gardener she took another sip of her drink for temporary elation and said Well, my dear, take heart. Some day, I will kiss you and you will like it. But not now, so I beg you not to be too impatient. I’m Daisy.