Petal.

In my mind there is a vast sea of daisies. Some are in varying hues of blue, and some are white, crisp and stark, but all of them unlike the other. They are distant to me now. Each petal soft and supple. I reach out to touch them, but they are too far away from me now. I have to remember them now. I cannot forget them now. The way one used to brush against my cheek and breathe softly onto my flesh. The way one would look at me with eyes as wide as Texas. The way one laughed with me at all of the silliness in this world. The way one walked with me in so much sorrow. The way one would share secret things with me spoken in French. The way one hugged me with so much intensity. It is all I can do to hang onto all of them, somehow. It is all I can do to lock them up inside and let them be what they are to me. Nobody else could ever have them in the same manner that I did. In spite of my deceit, I tried my best. My best was, however, not good enough. So I keep them all in my pockets now. As memories and nothing more. Their petals wrinkling with time, curling, and wilting, and fading away.