Dependency

purple and blue and red,
she is the spring rain as it washes
over your body, a mere annoyance
in the wake of his storm.

she hurts and she grows,
like a rose, with her thorns drawing
blood from your greedy fingers,
but for him!

oh for him she is somewhat of a summer breeze.
for him she is a daisy, sickly and sweet and bent out of shape.

make no mistake, she hurts and she 
yearns, for many, or maybe for one, but
for him, she is silent, she is final.

like a cloud, she is rolling and tumbling,
hair caught in the branches of a solemn
oak, fingers stuck in dirt, and like a cloud,
she seems to disappear.

for you, she will live, laughing,
wanting, aching, loving.
you will see her run, see her eat,
you will see her seemingly thrive,
but the question will always linger,
because who is she without him? 

who is she when she is not merely surviving?

because for him-

for him, she will simply just be.