Like a flower fading first from its core,
water never reaching, veins running dry—
slowly dying, no one seeing the collapse,
as the colors burn ever so bright.
You were the rain that drowned me,
roots drunk, petals swelled with light.
Now, rot creeps in and mold blooms slow,
still I clutch the last drops of you, too tight.
And, I would choose the drowning all over again,
the same rain, the same flood, the same pain...