• Whether it’s a whisper from your lips or the impending dead,
    That one word rips my sanity to shreds.
    Stand by and speak, encourage the pain to unfold;
    My responses are unmistakably cold.

    Petals from a blood red flower pool upon the floor,
    Fragile, they fall into place until the flower is no more.
    Remains wilt and shrivel as it dies;
    Were you impervious to my cries?

    Bluffing a smile, I reach out to you with hope,
    But you misinterpret the gesture as a grope.
    Blossoming anger arises from both sides, and I see,
    You really did not want to speak to me?

    Efforts to rekindle kindness fail,
    More flowers fall and I grow pale.
    “Clingy, assuming, problematic”;
    Your words make my sanity erratic.

    Your damage is done, I am alone;
    Go sit upon your crimson throne.
    Take my madness not my sorrow,
    I shall try not to be gone tomorrow.

    Though you are long departed,
    The picking up of the petals has only just started.
    Only one word in particular still stings;
    Have you any notion of the pain it brings?

    Proof and faith struggle to make me doubt such;
    Goodbyes hurt even when delivered with a gentle touch.