I am a delicate flower

I am a delicate flower. A rare one. Hard to find. To other flowers I'd be unique. Special. Different. When all other flowers stay the same, my pedals change color. Expressing my inner feelings. The more hurt. The more color.
   This is my flower. This is me.  How I hide pain. Depression is like not getting enough sun. In my case love. Feeling like you cant breath the air around you.. From toxicity. Others would cherish such a rare flower, and not take it for granted. Adore its beauty. Keep them happy, keep them close.. Soil them with nourishment and sunlight. But my sorrows come from no green thumb.
  Another person's perspective could be better than the one whom kills me inside daily. Someone whom to love all things about me. All my beauty. All my uniqueness. Love my singing voice. Love my personality. Love my strength. (I only have one crippling weekness) Someone to dance with me, and love to love me.. Someone to be delicate with my beating heart. Rather a giant foot stepping on my peddles. Making me brittle and week. Always stuck in recovery, but still tries to shine brighter than her heart..
   To apriciate all I can give and want to give. And give back with even more love. I am a deserving flower. I want to thrive on the inside and out. To feel appreciated and be proud to have such a rare flower to love..
  Don't pour water on me for such a short time. Then leave me in this desert high and dry. My roots are thirsty and want to grow. I want to be a happy flower.  Feel like I'm worth everything to you again.
   Hear my heart. I am a rare delicate flower.
                                           Signed,
                                                 Truely Yours or so I thought.