I brought flowers again. I lost the count of the days because it feels like eternity.
I brought flowers again, the same ones I brought yesterday, the day before yesterday and every single day before that.
I brought flowers again. White tulips and baby's breath. Her favourite. She always wanted to get them once she left.
I brought flowers again. The ones she thought about when she thought about leaving.
I brought flowers again. I'm afraid this is the last time. I will join her now. We are one after all. She is me. I am her. We are both dead.
No one brings flowers anymore.
Because no one ever did.
YOU ARE READING
Collection of short Stories
PoetryThis is a collection of very short stories, poetry if you'd like, that I wrote some time ago.
