Calla Lily

I was me for a moment, tears streaming and chest caving.

The me that held out her hands and asked what she did wrong.

The me that couldn't compare to all the lovely daffodils.

The me that is easy to lie to and easy to dismiss as waste.

I let that me sit there, I embraced her.

She was so angry. Strangled cries that escape from agonized breath. The kind I don't like listening to. The kind that shred my heart.

She was so lost and confused.

Why again?

I didn't know what to tell her.

I tried to protect her, but she wanted so bad to be seen. She had to try.

Though I shake my head sadly, wishing she had just listened; I also hold her tightly. 

I tuck that me into bed. I tell her a story.

I choose to tell her a fairytale, it soothes her. 

"You don't need to be lovely." I whisper in her silent sobs. "You don't need to be chosen, not one bit."

She looks at me in the windows reflection. Eyes half shut and heavy. 

"Why?" That me asks.

"Silly Rabbit, there is no comparison. 

Some choose roses.

Some choose daffodils.

But the one who chooses the simple Calla Lily recognizes the subtle scent and elegance without a need for show.

You, my dear, are a Calla Lily."