Flowers

Let me in, I’ll close the door. I’ll pick your heart up off the floor. 

Show me your eyes, before everything dies, can we talk? Just a bit more?

The flowers on the porch have wilted, as the seams of your soul have split; like your heart did. 

Pour blood on the medicine. Dissolve it. Dissect our problem and solve it. 

You’re gaping with wounds but you’ve stitched up your lips.

Alcohol consumes what your mouth won’t slip. 

Please… Don’t make me leave you here.

You must believe… I understand your fear. 

I wrap your quilt around your shoulders, with my guilt on ash; it smolders. 

The flowers, wilted, lose their colors. Speak to me. 

I’m not afraid, of the reflection in your eyes, like you are. Let me see. 

I know you reflect on the lies that split us, far; you and me.

I’m sorry. 

Please… Don’t make me leave you here.

Believe… I never meant to be your fear. 

Kill me… I’ll shut my mouth so they won’t hear. 

2 thoughts on “Flowers

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