We sat there for three days, spoke of nothing
      just watched the flowers die.

We put them outside, in the sun and clean air,
we gave it water, as much as it could drink.

And yet these roses chose a different path.
Sick of our presence. They wilted
They refused the water, the air.

Punished us by refusing
to continue on here among us.

All they really needed was a black flower ***
with a gold interior
and flakes of glitter in the soil.