Acoustic Memories

a conversation with myself about you and the garden we grew

some people have loads of flowers and some have none.

i understand that, i really do.
when i choose you i came with the notion that i'd be the one
with the flowers, and i didn't quite expect anything from you.
i still do not, in a sense.

but see, the thing is, i grew my flowers
with the mud i had.
i will teach you to, i will, and you give me flowers sometimes, and i
love them, but most of the time it's me standing at your
doorstep all the time with a bouquet.

i agreed to this, didn't i?

i did.

but my flowers take work. sometimes i'm not up for gardening.
sometimes i don't get enough sunshine.
and there are no flowers at your doorstep.
and none at mine.

and it drives me mad, to be honest. i agreed to this,
i accepted this, i took this upon myself and for a huge extent
i give you flowers because i like giving you flowers.

i think we both know how this ends.
this ends with a wilted garden.
this ends when i stop growing flowers.
this ends with me, doesn't it?

i should have known this.
it began with me.
didn't it?

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what even do i write anymore i have no clue
also no-one is reading my book?
maybe people are but no-one is commenting so i don't know what happened
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