i never got to love him—
i never got to love the man who would cause a botanical garden to grow in my stomach.
vines to grow throughout my lungs until flowers sprouted from my lips.
the thorns grew thick and wrapped around my vocal cords.
that’s why when you left i couldn’t speak,
i couldn’t say anything to make you stay.
therefore, i picked all the flowers, softly from my lips,
as a final farewell—
a few daisies to remember me by.