On my walks home,
The flowers like to scream at me.
They would tell me things like, “This will end, count the cracks!”

So I cut them and put them in a vase and sat them on my kitchen island.
Just as a reminder that this will end.
I will end. Us will end.

So I went and walked away from my home
Because I wanted to stay forever
Forever in your arms — whatever that meant.

But in your kitchen- I found the same flowers.
I think you had them there because you think they’re pretty.
And they are, until they remind you that this will end.

When I asked you why you put pretty flowers in a pretty vase/ you asked what I meant/ you told me that there was no vase no flowers, no end.


On my walk home I made up hallucinations to make myself seem crazy.
My head felt on fire, and time wasn’t a concept worth exploring.
Flowers grew and died, and I had outlasted them.
I keep outlasting my flowers,
And I keep replacing them
So I can pick them
And place them in a vase
At home.

At home
On my kitchen table / my vase was cracked (10) / water on the floor / flowers losing their shape.
I laughed and went to replace the vase.
I poured more water and gave the flowers a new arrangement.

The flowers forgot to scream at me this time.
They didn’t tell me this was the end.
But the noise of my computer finding out the news that this was the end
Sounded like another pretty vase breaking.


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