Flowers
as i continue walking
i see the flowers of my past
blooming with their beautiful wretchedness.
as i breath you in,
i smell the lies that i let linger,
the thoughts i didn’t dare to think,
this is not love,
this is my performance for myself.
how much of you do i miss?
no, how much of myself do i miss?
what do you see when you see me?
do you see your lies?
or do you see mine?
what did you want me to stop loving
when you told me to move on?
was it only you?
or did you know that it was already too late?
i have already told you,
how much of you is me,
and how much of me is you.
this isn’t equal exchange
it was never going to be.
it ended the moment i smelled your scent,
the fragrance that brings me back to myself.
this flower holds my self,
will i ever be freed?
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