the same people that planted flowers in my garden were the ones who were leaving me in drought,
digging holes and dropping seeds, leaving open insecurities, never coming back to tend or water,
forgetting about the beauty that could've grown

the same people that had made me feel happy and significant were the ones that tended scorching sunshine that created questioning and dispair weeks later.

empty promises and unfulfilled plans,
faded memories, withered people
and dead flowers