every morning I complimented the
flowers under your eyes and you
rolled those hazel wonders and
laughed because "there are no
flowers"
I asked you when you watered them
last, but begged you not to drown
them
"I can't help it" you excused "it's just a part of who I am"
you used to hand me bouquets of
dandelions and crown my head
with their yellow petals
their unappreciated beauty
"a lot like yours" you'd say
and I would glow like the sun that
fed your flowers
but yesterday you were on your
hands and knees
simply "cleaning up the mess"
those glorious "weeds"
had created
that night
I went to compliment your flowers
but they had all withered away
ad slowly
I can feel myself
withering too
