My heart opened for you
like a blood red tulip,
it’s restless beats settled
at the sound of your voice,
the way you pronounced my name
as if in a language only known to us,
our fingers wrapped together like vines,
the dark green ties that bind us forever,

But tulips live a short life
their petals wither and die,
I can only hope that in the dust
of my dead flower heart,
there will be the ashes of you