A vase with a crumpled bouquet set within it sits on a kitchen countertop,
A half an inch of water keeping the speckles of life left in the dying plants.
I should really throw them away and toss what came with them to rot in a landfill,
But it’s not that simple.
Something about watching the color bleed out from the petals of a high end arrangement
Makes you want to watch.
Shriveling, shaking before falling onto the ground to be crushed beneath a shoe.
Bits and pieces will be swept beneath the rug until someone stumbles upon them
Wondering what broke as the brown flakes of a bouquet crumbled.
Maybe, they’ll understand why the vase still sits on the countertop
Holding the residue of what used to be.
Or they’ll understand that everything wilts away and falls to the ground
Even love.
The chances are they won’t though and they’ll look at the vase and the crumpled petals
And walk on without giving a second glance at what used to be.