Thanks for the Flowers

Flowers.

Lonely.

Flowers.

Distant.

Flowers.

Don’t care.

Poke.

Nooo! Damn these pokes. The immediate pain I can get over, but now all I can see is a pattern. He says they’re accidents, he’s stressed, he didn’t mean it. No. The confusion and distance I feel isn’t worth these flowers. Why can’t he take ownership? Why can’t he apologize? Why can’t he see me? Hear me? Be with me? I’m not saying he’s a bad person. I’m saying his flowers aren’t worth it if he doesn’t look at these pokes. Where can we go from here? What can I do if he’s avoiding and ignoring my request to explore the pokes?

Flowers.

Are these a bribe or because he loves me?

Flowers.

What is love? How can this be it?

Flowers.

Are these so I’ll forget about the pokes?

Flowers.

Does he even think about the pokes?

Flowers.

Does he even know me?

Flowers.

Who is he anyway?

Flowers.

Maybe we don’t know each other after all. Maybe we don’t love each other after all.

Flowers.

Was I meant to be in my head like this? I wasn’t always in my head like this, was I?

Flowers.

Cool. Thanks. I’m less confused without you.

Flowers.

Cool. Thanks. I’m freer without you.

Flowers.

Bye.