The Vase

Like a vase of dead flowers

bowing out of existence

once vibrant, where petals and leaves caressed

now wilted, they shrivel and fall.

 

Love abandons love

our hearts land hard

broken, like a shattered vase

the shards of glass

cutting like razor blades.

 

We attempt to pick up the pieces

though no glue can mend them

nor resurrect those flowers.

 

We sweep up the remnants of our lives

until only a tidy sorrow can question

what might have been.

 

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