I think I understand hookups and one-night stands now.

The key to moving on is to replace all that stood before
until there stands nothing that may cause you to unravel.

Moment by moment,
conversation by conversation,  
I replace the replays,
I can't bear the thought
of another touching me, like I'm not yours.

I got another ring today, all big and loose.
It's funny how I picked this one,
it keeps slipping off my fingers like you did.
It's been two months since I last wore your ring.
I don't see a difference between them,
it feels the same on my thumb.
and that should be the end of it,
but oh well, I guess it isn't.

I walked to the grocery store, paused at an aisle,
took my time frowning over chocolate bars.
You used to get me Munch, and so I picked the Mars bar.

I don't skip meals now, (well, most days I don't)
and in place of our routine conversations,
I play a random show.

I drown noise with noise.

My days are decent.
I'm surrounded by mindless jibber jabber.
I participate.
I paste a bright smile.

“You look well now,” they say,
“Well, I am” I reply.
And I am fine. (I think I am?)
9/10 times I am.

Then in a random mundane moment,
memories of you resurface like a ring light and
in that single moment,
I let myself crumble.

“I don't want him back.
He's changed now.
So have you and so what?
If it's meant to be, it'll be.
He's the love of my life.
Well don't let him in,
when (not if) he comes back.

Do it from love, not for it.
You deserve happiness.
Both of you do.

You want love.
You are love.
The ocean doesn't look for its water,
Why will you look for what you have?

It is what it is.
and this too shall pass.”

So on and so forth my inner monologue goes on,
and I stare at my phone wondering if I can conjure you from my thoughts.

I am kinder now.
With myself, and everyone around.
I wish I were kinder to you, but I was just a child.

I know you're proud,
and I am of you too.

Do you think I can sculpt my favourite version of you?
Wait, no.
I already did that,
I loved all of you
and then everything fell apart.

My thoughts swirl and I let them play.
Incantations in my head
Obligatory 3 am, weary sighs, contempt and rage.
Oh, so much rage.
Where is the calming lull of sleep, when you need it to sedate your despair?

Resignation sets in, I play a familiar game.
I ask the universe and unbiasedly it delivers the same day.

"Universe, give me a sign, I'm really done this time.
Yellow flowers if he's coming back,
Dandelions if he's not.
Universe let me move on. This is the last time, "

In my version of He loves me, he loves me not
I break flowers, not petals.

I look for answers in colours and not action,
And then I saw a dozen Dandelions.

It’s hard to care
for a bunch of flowers in a vase  
Neither here nor there
Neither quite dead nor alive
Though seemingly full of life
And fragrant and beautiful

But it distresses me as they start to wilt
Petals fall
One by one — all
Perhaps it’s better that I get a
bouquet of dried flowers instead
Muted creams, browns and reds
They won’t be as vibrant
But flowers yet
They’ll dispel winter’s gloom
Add colour to my room

They’ll certainly last longer…
Ah, if only I were wiser and stronger
I could make the most of each moment
And enjoy the beauty of flowers and their sweet scent
But I guess I am silly
To brood over wilting roses, dahlias and that odd lily

I want a Garden of Flowers.
I want Tulips and Roses that bleed red
When the rain hits
Their petals fall on the ground
Just in time for the wind to come,
And make them dance

I want the birds and the bees
To make the most out of my fertile seeds
I want my flower’s honey to be the sweetest,
When it’s in your mouth

I want Daisies and Lavenders
That blossom under the sun
With roots so deep, they touch the earth’s crust
I want Mother Nature to call me,
Her daughter  
Yes, I want a garden of flowers

I want Asters and Chrysanthemums
That sprout when everything is gone
I want the children to marble
At how they blossom

Where wedding planners come to my door
Or mankind comes to pluck off their stems,
To give to their lover
After making them cry
Yes, I want my florals
To be a reason for someone to smile

I want Poppies that grow
On my empire of dirt
And after everything has departed,
A new cycle has started.

All kinds of myriad forms and vibrant rings;
Rings of light on a spectrum of darkness.
Odilon Redon saw it this way, within his hidden dreams,
Sat by the pale cliffs of ocean spray—
The colours fading out like the diamond light of a prismatic stage play.
And the cells,
Finally expanding,
Whose inhabitants remain locked away—
But still able to reach out via the astral membrane—
They wrap around the trees of the mind as in the dream of the Shaded Serpent:
The symbolic stage play.

Since you've been gone,
I have been slowly rebuilding myself.
A garden devastated by tornado
will soon grow the most beautiful flowers.

Your words are flowers
Blooming in interactions
Early blossoms grow