Grandma

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her face wears weight of age

dragged skin,
down by pressure and sickness

I realized you're an elder.

I realized you're dying.

I realized you aren't there any more.

you look sick and pale,

so unlike you original dashing sunflower

Your seeds have been plucked

'Wilting'

you're just not the same anymore

Grandma
(I called you butterfly

as a child
because I couldn't speak russian properly

you still accepted me)

Butterfly-

Tell me tell me

why are you chipping,
why are the chips sliding off,
to show your dying organs

including your Heart

I'm pulling your hand
Trying to push you away from death

But my feeble attempts are nothing

Because I know

that we aren't immortal

so I'll pluck your wings instead

pin you up

so I can preserve you forever

in dirt.

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