She’s been called a desert flower.
Blooming even in the harshest environments.
She’s been called a heart breaker, manipulator, leaving shattered lives in her wake.
Withering the innocent, even in the safest surroundings.
She’s been told she is magic.
Leaving traces of her love, soft petals of hope, tender whispers.
She’s been told she is broken.
Leaving pieces of her behind, sharp edges of disaster, cruel murmurs.
She tells herself that she is all that she needs to be, nothing more, and nothing less.
Blooming, withering, breaking, loving, living.