I am a garden.
This garden knows unrequited love.
This garden gives unconditional love, nonetheless.
Ripping and tearing bits and pieces out.
A bouquet of smiles and hope.
I give my hands, although always cold,
to comfort him as he cries.
I give my lips,
breathing life back into her when she forgets what living is like.
I give my eyes when he cannot see what is right or what is wrong.
I give my mind when she doesn't like what's inside her own.
I give my shoulder when his pillow is all soaked.
I give my heart when she says she is unworthy of love.
I give all of this knowing I will not receive any of it back.
Unaltered by the fact that I am only just a garden.
I will not receive as much as a sideways glance when I ask for love in return.
Even without love, this garden will not die.
For my tears water the seeds.