for the girl with vines of lilac encircling her ribs,
like the ivy on the turrets of her castle;
she, with her gentle smiles and gentler hands,
walks confident, not proud,
speaks to be heard, not loud.

you've walked her floors and ran your fingers
through the tapestries she weaves
in the loose braids of her hair.
you kiss the hand of a princess,
and step on the toes of a queen.

for the girl whose elegance
knows more of the growing season,
than it sees of the green.
spends her love to grant you yours,
shares her wealth to make up for yours.

she withers in broad daylight,
her petals soaked in ammonium,
and your fingers reek pungence.
you begged to breathe more life into her,
and now, she suffocates on you.

for the flower girl,
in loving memory.