twelve months ago you gave me flowers
I kept them in a vase while their color brightened the room
crisp scent of promise and reassurance
they stood proudly and confident
I changed the water from time to time when it became a faint brown
I could tell the flowers were tired
no longer holding the eyes of passing strangers, they were languishing and dismal
growing distant
I no longer felt the safety of a stem and the consolation of the petals
I could feel my love grasping at the edges to hold on to the once lively animation I once possessed
I was shown the cruel effects of time and how it can taint and corrupt something so beautiful
the flowers were soon tucked away as a faint memory while waiting to be replaced
held on to simply because the idea of material possession was a misinterpretation of passion and the belief it could be brought back to life
some things slip through our finger tips and the concept of love is too abstract to be understood
similar to the beauty of a flower
you promised me our love would last til the last flower dies but I now realize talk is cheap and your flaccid words are not worthy
twelve months ago our love brightened my life like a rose
and today I remembered you never really liked flowers