The Flower Girl
Dedicated: To all the Lucius/Lily shippers out there.
By: Fallen-light
Lily. Sweet little Lily. God, you don't even need the sweet, Lily is bad enough. It's so pretty and girlish and I hate it. Like you. I hate you for being good and have all those people adore you. You don't need their attention. You could have my attention. What am I saying, you're the one that left. For what? Just so what-his-face's could marry you. What good has it done you? Nothing except, making your meeting with death earlier. I could have prevented that. If you were with me. Yet fate couldn't have given me that.
Flowers. The people I have loved and lost, are always name after flowers. Just like you. Why is it always like that? Why must the woman named after flowers die? Why must we love them so? Is there no reason for our pain?
But Lily is so sappy and fragile, makes you sound like you break easier than China. Rose, now those are flowers to admire. Yes there pretty but at least they have bite. Aren't those red ones mean passion instead of romance? I wonder if flowers like being flowers? I wonder if you like being name after a flower? Always being picked, looking so pretty for hours, days, years sometimes, but dead inside. Do you feel like this? Perhaps you did. Well at least for the last part, anyway.
Lilies are purity, aren't they? Something like that. And your body as pure as pure can be, but I like to think my mind is above that. Or below, I guess. I'm tempted to laugh; you have been dead for years yet I still dwell on you. I can almost see you laughing at me. And besides, flowers can't laugh, can they?
Dedicated: To all the Lucius/Lily shippers out there.
By: Fallen-light
Lily. Sweet little Lily. God, you don't even need the sweet, Lily is bad enough. It's so pretty and girlish and I hate it. Like you. I hate you for being good and have all those people adore you. You don't need their attention. You could have my attention. What am I saying, you're the one that left. For what? Just so what-his-face's could marry you. What good has it done you? Nothing except, making your meeting with death earlier. I could have prevented that. If you were with me. Yet fate couldn't have given me that.
Flowers. The people I have loved and lost, are always name after flowers. Just like you. Why is it always like that? Why must the woman named after flowers die? Why must we love them so? Is there no reason for our pain?
But Lily is so sappy and fragile, makes you sound like you break easier than China. Rose, now those are flowers to admire. Yes there pretty but at least they have bite. Aren't those red ones mean passion instead of romance? I wonder if flowers like being flowers? I wonder if you like being name after a flower? Always being picked, looking so pretty for hours, days, years sometimes, but dead inside. Do you feel like this? Perhaps you did. Well at least for the last part, anyway.
Lilies are purity, aren't they? Something like that. And your body as pure as pure can be, but I like to think my mind is above that. Or below, I guess. I'm tempted to laugh; you have been dead for years yet I still dwell on you. I can almost see you laughing at me. And besides, flowers can't laugh, can they?