i used to be okay.

i used to live among flowers

and maybe they were wilted,

but i loved their petals nonetheless.

you saw my dying roses

and you offered to give them some water.

while you were bringing them back to life,

i noticed that your water smelled.

it smelled sort of like weed killer.

but then again, i don’t really know what weed killer smells like

so i let you carry on.

but when you were done,

i saw what was left of my little garden.

i didn’t know i could mourn something

that was dead to begin with

but these flowers were not just wilted.

they were gone.

you took what was left of us

and i didn’t notice until it was too late.

but sometimes i look at those lilacs and violets

and i think,

maybe water is supposed to do this.

i mean,

you told me it was water

and you told me you only wanted to help

i must be crazy to think you would lie.

and then i feel so

guilty

for even thinking this way

and i start to miss that fatal scent

so thank you

for killing my flowers.

it was so kind of you

to think of me.