27 Flowers

What’s left but antipathy?
Because hate is hard to bear
I’ll hide it in nuances because love is best kept unsaid
I just hope you know that I held on
Through every lie that you couldn’t hide
I was there for you like I swore
But, when I left, I passed a funeral mute
Standing at the door
I’ve been alone
In these circles
In these cycles
You’ve built this grave
And I will bury you inside
Built atop my bones
Your love, your lust, your hope
My skin will keep you warm
As you dance upon my scorn
You’ll leave me behind;
A ghost of intimate lies
A structure torn apart to create something better
I’m caught choking on the letters that you left me
Tears falling down my face in the rain
As the garden begins to grow flowers from my pain
I bring them inside a room that feels like home and begin to frame
Each flower more detailed then the last
And the feeling of my fingertips across the glass
I climb on my bed, I feel the hardwood under my feet
As I begin to hang flowers all over the room
I hear you singing softly in the back of my head
«For in death I am caressing you.»
I feel empty and alone at this homemade funeral
But all the frames and flowers were just faded pictures of you
As I lay down in a bed for one
And turn into a ghost in front of everyone I love
Our bodies belong in this garden we made
Waiting for the rain to wash away the words we spoke
While our love, our lust, our hope
Lies buried
But will not grow