Withering flowers

There’s this florist up the steep hill that I used to pass by every now and again
I never thought much of it, what use could I possibly have of it?
Tell me, who would I buy flowers for anyway?

And every time there would be these bouquet of flowers on display
One of them: purple, violet and cream enclosed in green
Standing still in a jar with a painted heart which the wind could never reach.

It was never that alluring to me, just another pretty thing, dying.
Until one day
Halting on my steps, walking in, making a needlessly pricey purchase.

Why?
What foolish girl has a mind that changes so often, it puts the weather here to shame!

One day you are this ordinary thing and the next day an enticing being
A heavenly body luring my eyes towards its grace and majesty.

All things pass, they say.

And while the flowers wilted away
Decaying. Rotting before my very eyes
I watched you walk away with all the light, leaving the grey world inside
Darker, with a seamless shadow refusing to subside.

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2 thoughts on “Withering flowers”

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