On These Flowers
does she regret giving them to me now? i thought
I am sitting and watching them. I got these flowers a few days before we broke up. Would she think now that giving them to me was a mistake in the first place? I thought. I liked that she gave me flowers. These flowers that came with this small tag which bore a name only a few knew me by. These flowers are turning bad.
What shall I do? But I don’t want to do anything to them, not even want, more like I can’t do anything to them. I don’t want to touch them. All I can do is watch them from a distance. I’ve been watching them every day.
The daffodils were the first to die, still covered in that sickly sweet smell that yet lingers. The carnations have also started to dry and collapse into themselves, as if trying to hide from their death, or hide their death from me. i do not know which. if I had cut them properly from the bottom before putting it into the vase like that lady at the flower shop taught me, maybe they would have lasted longer, i thought. did I want them to last longer? they still would’ve died eventually like all flowers do, i thought. and now even the gypsophilias are turning dry, their tiny dry white petals fallen like snowflakes on the table.
the scene looks like a funeral, the room smells like a funeral, but there they still sit, as if too much at home, as if accusing me of some crime, as if a waiting metaphor for me to write about, like that love forgotten, like that love that never happened, like that love left incomplete, like that love waiting to happen... I can’t throw out a gift I never felt I even deserved, i thought.
I can’t just chuck them in the bin... “I will burry them, in that garden, in the night, in that spot. I know it’s kinda stupid,” I thought. The flowers given, were a mistake, I thought... but mistakes I made and will make is all my life is turning to be about, i thought.
did I overdo the “i thought”? i thought.
Thoughtfully yours,
King of Carrot Flowers.
99/100
