✶
"no more gilly flowers? "
"did you like them?"
"I neither dislike them or like them.
I'm just not quite fond of them, that is."
"I thought they resembled you.
a symbol for beauty and unfading."
"oh... do you not think of
such thing no more?"
"absolutely not, I now simply just
see you in every flower I come across."
can we speak in flowers?
it will be easier for me to understand.
perhaps if you compared our love to the
sense a lisianthus, maybe, just maybe
our bond would've lasted longer than
the impending end of the flowers
we oh so admired.
for all I know—if we conversed in a way
where each sides understood completely,
perhaps, the thread that binds us
would've grown secure and not grow wary
of the years that it has spent holding
our unforgivable tug in each and every
single one of our moments.
maybe, just maybe, if we continued to
speak in the language of the flowers
that was responsible for our adoration of
each other to bloom at the dawn of time,
maybe we could've loved each other
more clearly, more purely.
- acb (ehhhh idk)
YOU ARE READING
my poems. nd shits?
Poetryi do not edit them, we die like men here. might update them to make them more fancy but that's unlikely.
