Weeping tendrils of brittle plant
cling to the ceramic bowl
just as a newborn clings to it's
mother's fingers.
It is desperate to live,
but no one else is desperate enough to help it prosper.
Tender green shoots lie dying
in stark contrast to it's bearer of fruit,
drooping, weeping, and sagging
in the Aztec colored bowl.
Cracked petals drip one by one,
in shades ranging from
cream to molten beige.
They lie as a reminder that "he" did not love me.
They lie as a reminder of my own painfully sad life.
They lie as a reminder that everything once gold can not stay.