Your dinosaur petals wilted and dessicated.
I plucked them and kept them, maintaining their perfect purple shape,
I could not bring myself to toss your mummifying parts.
It’s the same now with the rest of you:
Wilted, dessicated, splitting and browning — a heart torn in two.
I’m sorry I could not substitute the sun and keep you warm,
I barely hang on to myself in this land of eternal cold gray.
I wish I could glow, humidify, bring your possibilities back to life.
I needed you, you remind me of tropical wastelands long left behind,
The surprise of opening blooms
The unexpected shoots and blossoms that defied weather for a time.
Like so many other spent souvenirs around me,
How long will your corpse remain?
I’m used to it.
I don’t want to let go.