(flowers)

(flowers)

part i

you sent me flowers
and the gesture was kind
but soon they’ll die
and if you don’t mind
I just can’t cope with
one more death

you sent me flowers
and on the card it read:
“I’m sorry for your loss”
but it is your loss I see
your loss for words
of what to say to me

you sent me flowers
that one time
but when was the last time
you mentioned their name?
I don’t expect you to say
the perfect thing
and I don’t expect it
all the time
but when all I have left
are memories
let’s write them down
say them out loud
forget the vase
let’s embrace
and cry and laugh
and remember that
cute face they made
and that crazy thing
they did and that
special way they made us feel
and how it’s unreal
that they’re gone but how
they’ll live on
in our hearts and
in our stories

you sent me flowers but
please, I beg,
could you share a story with me instead?
even if it’s one I’ve already heard
I assure you I’ll cling to your
every word
and for a moment I’ll feel alive again
amidst this grief
for a moment they’ll feel alive again
at least to me

but you sent me flowers
instead of stories
so we sit in silence, withering
my flowers and me
and eventually
just
me

part ii

but one day
after I've cried enough
to fill that empty vase before me
I look to it, and say,
“would you like to hear a story?”

and watch it open from prickled stem,
not a rose, nor gardenia
but the soft, delicate petals of
my new favorite flower:
nostalgia

@paige.thepoet