I tossed the dead purple flowers in the trash today.

When I first got them they were so vibrant, they were still in the plastic wrap. I knew you got them from the grocery store because you didn’t even bother to take the price sticker off.

I couldn’t stand to look at them anymore.

Because last month I got pink roses for when you came home drunk at 4am and woke me up to the sound of our dog barking and you stumbling in the house.

And the month before that I got yellow marigolds with beautiful greenery after we got into that huge fight after a date night out.

And 3 months before that I got white roses, in a tall crystal vase with a card when I threatened to leave you.

I fucking hate flowers.