I’ve been given a flower with rotten roots

I’ve been given a flower with rotten roots

I water its petals everyday,

Watching it flourish underneath springs shade.

Ignoring the fact that at its root it decays

I’ve been given a flower with rotten roots.

Too soon the petals wilt,

I water it again but the rotten roots feel no guilt.

The familiar colour fades,

But I don’t notice, it happens too slow,

Lavender fades to indigo.

I’ve been given a flower with rotten roots.

Even as the petals fall, with no will to hold on.

I keep it in the centre of the room,

Not willing to let it go.

For I still remember the colour of lavender,

And smell sweet honey underneath the stench of dead weeds.

been given a flower with rotten roots.

It’s obvious now,

The way it leans on a wooden stilt,

Turning away from the sun’s warm glaze.

The smell, it’s disgusting,

Yet I can’t seem to throw it away.

So I sit with it,

Letting it fill my entire space.

It’s colour, it’s fragrance, the roots overcrowding and threatening to escape.

I sit with it until I can’t sit any more,

For I am now a pile of bones,

Yet the rotten roots of my flower continue to grow.