Dead Flowers

By Ivory Fields

Dead Flowers by Ivory FieldsIvory Fields

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I think my problem is

I really love the smell of dead flowers.

Love holding onto something that was once beautiful,

long after it’s expired.

I love that sweet, pungent smell

of decaying roses.

Constantly changing out the water,

hoping to restore it to the beauty it once showed us.

But, that’s a me problem, right?

Cause holding on like this

is only giving me a bit of reprieve.

All I really have is some glass

full of mushy stems and crusty leaves.

But, when my therapist asked how you got unblocked again…

I tell her the only reason the chocolates you gave me 

never melted is cause I froze them.

Left them stuck at the exact moment 

your love for me felt as rich on my tongue

as they did… as you did…

Because the moment you left my tongue,

I was immediately craving another taste of you

but your honey was gone.

And the only thing left to saver 

was the cloyingly sweet scent

of dead roses that you left for me.

So I held them hostage.

Keep them as proof, circumstantial evidence

Look! Look how good she used to love me..

If these petals can stay stuck 

on these withering stems,

why can’t I stay stuck on you? 

But, the leaves always fall and then

this vase isn’t a representation of 

how good it was when you loved me,

just a time capsule 

of the exact moment you decided to love me not.

So I gotta trash it.

But I allow myself to keep

just one petal.

Tucked between the folds of my heart chakra

as an example of how quickly

our beauty can turn beastly sometimes.

Because when (and I do mean when)

you love me again,

you’ll get me more flowers.

Just maybe something that’ll last a bit longer this time?

If not, don’t worry hun.

I really do love the smell of dead roses.