You don’t like flowers.
You say they rot in just a few hours.
But the happiness they bear
still lingers softly in my air.
You say you hate questions—
answers are your only mentions.
I don’t understand how you’re calibrated,
or the cold behavior you’ve created.
So I won’t get flowers from the shop,
you won’t have to watch them rot.
I won’t ask questions or ease your mind—
I guess your love will stay undefined.
What’s the point of it all, to pretend?
It’s the journey that matters in the end
Ironic as it may seem,
rotting was the best part of the dream.
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Author:
Reta (
Offline) - Published: June 11th, 2025 12:24
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Soman Ragavan, Poetic Licence, Priya Tomar
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Comments2
Loved the last line that put a twist on this whole poem. A most interesting write. Well done
Nature has made every living being with a specific purpose. Many living things have unique characteristics. It is in the nature of flowers to wither and fade within a short time. They do not have the resources to stay fresh for long. Within the short time allotted to them, they have to produce what is expected of them. One reason for the beauty is to attract flies, butterflies, birds, bees, etc, to enable pollination and the reproduction of the species. In many cases, if flowers are not pollinated, there is no reproduction. In the case of humans and flowers, it turns out that, being captivated by the beauty, Man ends up cutting the flower and keeping it inside….
Love the interpretation! Thank you for your feedback!
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