Looked at it all night,
Kissed it before bed.
It stayed in it's glass sleeve,
An empty milk bottle,
I didn't own a vase you see.
I gently appreciated,
My bedside felt decorated.
The severed stalk with it's bloom,
Survived and thrived,
For longer than I'd expected.
I must say I liked the scent,
Even as I threw it away,
A lovely wilted, dead flower.
I'm writing this because
It oddly reminded me
Of the way you loved me.

-UV