In the corner of my room
sits a vase filled with dead flowers
They are wilted and withered
through no fault of their own
They were given as a gesture of love
in a state of beauty
But they were cut at their source
separated from their roots
so that they could no longer reach the nutrients they need to survive
And I watched them
as they became brown and brittle
and faded from the glory they once held
But I've kept them
because they remind me of you
They remind me of how we had something
that slowly slipped away
until it crumbled in my fingers
when I tried to bring it back to life
But they are still flowers
They are still beautiful even though they are dying
Because what they represented was so beautiful
even if it's passed on