She gave me a flower bouquet
like leaving behind a weeping
bouquet of lilies to wilt softly
on the grave of a loved one

The aromatic scent of lilies
couldn’t overcome the mist
of death ruled by Achlys

The forsaken flower quivers
over the piercing whispers
of her impending doom
when her youthful roots
were unwillingly cut

She withers upon my grave,
and emits the scent of death and I

The decayed petals drop
like blood from cut vines
The brittle dried flower
rots as its color fades from
pure-white and pink
to senescing brown

A slight tint of pink still lingers
as what’s left of her love

The corpse flower
scentless bloom of death belongs
Ghosts with feverish smiles shall
visit me with a bitterly cold embrace