The Sunflower Whose Petals You Refused to Pick

Dear Beauty,

There's been something on my mind.

Do you recall that the color yellow was once revolting in my eyes?

When we met, its meaning changed

and I fell in love with how it permeated the skies.

Nights that we spent together were wrapped in yarn the color of sunflowers.

I had no regrets, just love on mind, and you to share it with.

Daffodils, tulips, and daisies, I recall being your favorite during the golden hours. 

Our friendship, young and ripe, defied all odds.

When leaf subsied to leaf,

our futures seemed irrevocably intertwined,

and we made do, aiming for a friendship "'til the end of time."

Your favorite color, yellow, seemed to grow on me still;

our friendship was school busses, lemons, and changing chlorophyll.

But when you met a ghost from your Past

I found the true meaning of the collor yellow, at last.

You took the words of Past and deemed them true,

and there was nothing I could do to soothe your aching wounds.

I regret the way our relationship turned sour,

and I resent, detest, and abhor the ghost that killed our flowers.

I came to realize there was always a reason yellow was my least favorite color.

I cannot recall the original reason,

but it's clear I was doomed to hate that damned hue.

But, I think the universe was waiting to tell me that the reason was going to be you.

Sincerely,

The Sunflower Whose Petals You Refused to Pick