To those
who abandon the very souls
they once vowed
to die for
hear this...
Even a flower,
plucked and dead
in your careless hand,
will gift you
its fragrance.
It does not curse.
It does not withhold.
It bleeds beauty
for the one
who tore it
from its roots.
So too
do the truest hearts,
they bloom
for their betrayers,
and love
even as they wither.
May 28, 2025
May 28, 2025 at 8:34 PM UTC
To those
who abandon the very souls
they once vowed
to die for
hear this...
Even a flower,
plucked and dead
in your careless hand,
will gift you
its fragrance.
It does not curse.
It does not withhold.
It bleeds beauty
for the one
who tore it
from its roots.
So too
do the truest hearts,
they bloom
for their betrayers,
and love
even as they wither.
Request permission to use this poem