Is it strange to you that I've kept each and every single flower I've gotten, from any person, since the first?
Roses, carnations, and the likes...
Honestly, there aren't a lot, but I don't care.
They all still have a hint of sweetness to them.
They're all lined up along the rim of an old roll top desk, positioned in an almost awkward manner.
Of course, they're long dead, have been for many many years, it's not even sad.
Sitting silently in their empty vases, layers of dust coat dark petals and cobwebs just barely reach down to meet them.
The very same vases they originally thrived in have now become their personal caskets.
They are beautiful ghosts, withered and forgotten by whoever sent them.
I look at those pretty dead plants as much as I can.
It helps me manage and only reminds me that there is still beauty in death.
These lifeless corpses are still gorgeous, and maybe I will be like them one day.