you spit dead flowers at me
they spill from between your teeth
I put them between the pages of a book
one I’ve only read once

if you had a mouth full of fresh flowers
I wouldn’t have stopped to listen
isn’t it fascinating
to see the decay in the veins of a petal

one day you’ll spit your last petal
will you replace them
or let new ones grow from the dead
I guess I’ll find out
with a new book in hand